Ruthie's Choice
by The-Big-Show1
Summary: Part three from where "Somebody Has To Stop Him!" and "Ruthie and Peter's Honeymoon Nightmare" left off. Ruthie, Peter and two friends run a successful megachurch; but it might come crashing down for all of them when Peter and Ruthie both cheat - with unlikely people. Rated M for character rape, language, mature / sexual content, violence. Chapter 12 complete; please read & review.
1. The Reply Coupon

Chapter 1

It had been eight years since the horror of facing down not just one but two sadistic killers. For months after their respective honeymoons in Hawaii had been ruined beyond recognition, Ruthie Camden and Peter Petrowski, and Rod Parker and Shelby Conner, could not for the life of any of them figure out how lucky they had been – and how an incredible stroke of genius led them to an unlikely victory that saved not just their lives but also those of Ruthie's uncle, George Grayson, and her aunt (_and_ sister-in-law) Patty Mary Kinkirk.

For a time, no one knew exactly what they wanted to do in life. Indeed, Ruthie had wanted to become a minister like her father, Eric, and her sister, Lucy. After that summer, however, she and Peter quickly had changed their majors to social work. But after the first year at UCLA, the couple realized that God had been calling them all along and they switched back to theology.

For what it was worth, Rod and Shelby decided they wanted to be chaplains themselves. They were able to get their divinity degrees by correspondence; and the Marines which both were members of promptly rewarded their calling by sending them to Kandahar City, Afghanistan. The number of ramp ceremonies they had to attend got to be so large they considered quitting the public service all together and starting their own church somewhere in the Mid-west – one that would practice what it preached, not at all unlike so many of the phonies not just on TV but which also inhabited their and their friends' hometown.

Their stress was so great that they asked for, and got, a six month decompression stay in Guam. Then, they finally had something go their way. Their security clearance was raised to a level high enough that they were able to achieve their ambition – postings inside the Defense Intelligence Agency, and in the very city where they dreamed of spending the rest of their lives as a couple, St. Louis. Because they couldn't obviously say with whom they actually worked with, they received a non-official cover as ministers of a church on the outskirts of town and were allowed to keep any stipends over and above their military salaries. The church in question had been a mega-church but had become largely vacant after a major sex scandal involving the entire pastorate.

It wasn't the church Shelby and Rod wanted but having nothing better to choose from – and having had twin girls, Rhiannon and Maighread, both of whom were now six – they took it over. They weren't expecting much but their enthusiasm for God as well as genuinely serving their fellow man with the acts of mercy, as well as their authenticity (not the least of which was their insistence on selling the palatial "parsonage" owned by their predecessor, in favour of a much more modest one floor, 2000 square foot ranch – they would have gone even smaller but they were determined to have at least three more children) had people spreading the word. Within eighteen months, the church was up to 15,000 members, even more than the peak before the "darkness." So overwhelmed were Rod and Shelby that they finally called upon their friends Ruthie and Peter and asked if they would join on as associate pastors.

In a heartbeat, they said. Peter and Ruthie also had twins of their own, James and Heather, who were born on the exact same day as Rhiannon and Maighread, indeed in the same hospital. After doing short term strings as "interim pastors" for a number of churches around the Southwest United States and over a span of several years, they actually looked forward to full time stakes even if they would be their pals' employees.

Because of their very covert intelligence work, either Rod or Shelby would be out of town or even the country for a week or two at a time, going after truly nasty people – terrorists, military and economic spies, as well as rogue elements within the US government. The ruse they would use is as missionaries, which technically they also were. A few occasions they would pose as a couple. Whatever the configuration, they were putting their lives on the line and risking their daughters being parentless; for they didn't have the protection of a diplomatic passport like most spies would. At any time they could be smoked out and their careers ruined, or worse.

Ruthie and Peter understood their friends' choices, but had to wonder just how far they could push the boundaries. While they did not know exactly what was going on on any particular "mission" they had a pretty good guess most of the time. But they never got a confirmation or denial. This was because they didn't have a need to know, so they didn't ask.

After a Sunday service at the end of summer, and the usual "hand of friendship" line with the parishioners leaving, Rod and Shelby summoned Ruthie and Peter to their office. A bit nervous, these instructions were followed. Four chairs were laid out in a circle. Ruthie faced Rod while Peter faced Shelby.

"Guys," said Shelby, "Rod and I have stumbled on something huge, through one of our contacts in Luxembourg. It involves one of our parishioners, one of our wealthiest benefactors in fact. If we purge this guy or gal from our midst, the church will take a short-term financial hit – you need to be aware of that. But we can't have dirty money in our coffers. We may have to even give some of it back. We're going to need your help. We're not going to name which benefactor yet, since we need some definitive proof, but we're almost certain he's running a Ponzi scheme."

"Like Bernie Madoff?" asked Ruthie.

"Nowhere near as huge but it approaches that scale. Shelby and I estimate it's about $200 million – and of course, with this person being a strict thither, that means he's laundered $20 million into our coffers," said Rod.

"That's half of the cash on hand we have! That's strictly a rainy day fund. We may be able to afford the hit, as you say, but that will be a huge blow in the confidence people have in our church, that the four of us have worked so hard to build!"

"We're aware of that, Ruthie," said Shelby sadly. "We're either going to have to move fast, or slow, depending on how this operation works precisely, but in the meantime we're going to have to tend to our pastoral duties and pretend absolutely nothing's gone wrong."

"You and Rod have our help and assurance, Shelby. Umm ..." said Peter.

"What, Peter?" asked Shelby.

"I'm familiar with the concept of a Ponzi scheme. Early investors get paid by the money coming in from later investors and the pyramid keeps building until it collapses. But – and I know this a stupid question – but how did it get the name _Ponzi?_"

"May I?" asked Ruthie, raising her hand.

"Okay, honey, kick it."

"Well, for starters, let me ask you a question, sweetheart. Do you know what an International Reply Coupon is?"

"Sure, I do."

"How?"

"Because our buddies here run their own amateur radio station, broadcasting our services on Sundays as well as their and our daily commentaries about the world around us. Matter of fact, the plate on Rod and Shelby's van has the station's call letters. There's a reason why they enjoy that privilege as do other hams; if the entire communications system ever broke down, the only links that would be left are hams and the cops would want to know who those hams are. And, judging from our mail, I'm sure Shelby and Rod regularly get requests for QSL cards – query, station, location – people confirming where they hear us, which is around the world, and we send them that card, which in our case is our church's logo. And, since most of the requests are from outside the States, they can't very well send a self-addressed stamped envelope because it would be useless.

"So, they include a reply coupon – IRC – which covers the cost of an international stamp for the return trip. One of those coupons bought here, in return, can be redeemed at any postal office in any other country – even the Vatican and the United Nations will accept them."

"Why do they include the coupon?"

"It's just proper etiquette. When the guys here or we ask for a QSL from a station outside the States, we do the same."

"Exactly," said Ruthie. "And that is where Charles Ponzi comes in. After serving time in Canada during World War I for forging a check, he found his way to Boston. He had the idea of selling advertising space in a catalog for an import-export company. One day, he gets a letter from a firm in Spain inquiring about the catalog and the letter included an IRC. He never saw one before but he did a bit of research and discovered that, unlike today, there were huge price disparities between coupons issued in some countries and those in others. They are overpriced to begin with, always have been, because the home post office needs to cover the spread for the outbound stamp and the inbound they have to honor."

"The terminal fees," said Peter. "So what's illegal about that?"

"Actually that isn't, Peter," said Shelby. "Buying long and selling short, or arbitrage, has been at the heart of commodities for ages. Betting on the difference for gold, silver, oil, gas, wheat, hogs, even orange juice – not to mention currencies – is the heart of what makes money stay awake, 24/7. Without that kind of cutthroat carnage, the rules of supply and demand would be tossed out the window. So what Ponzi did at that level – making a profit on IRCs – wasn't illegal. What he did that was, was way more sinister."

"I'm listening."

"At first, the payoffs were indeed huge – people who bought coupons for, say, $1250, could sell them short for $500, walk away with $2000 cash, and make a profit of $750. Word spread fast and more people wanted to get into the game. Common sense dictated that Ponzi's idea really didn't add up. But no one wanted to listen to common sense. When one reporter tried to call him out, Ponzi sued and won a half million bucks – which is like $5 million today. It was getting to the ridiculous with Ponzi raking in a quarter mill per day. That's _every day._ But finally, his number finally came up – and with it, thousands of others with him."

"What?" Peter was at the edge of his seat.

"A then unknown financial reporter named Clarence Barron – yes, _that _Barron – did what any thinking person should have done," said Shelby. "He asked first, was Ponzi investing in his own company? Turns out, he wasn't. That was weird, most normal people who run their own companies do put up their own money, or at least some seed money to get things going.

"With that information, Barron then called the postal service. He had two very simple questions. First: Was it really possible to make a profit center out of IRCs? He was told, yes – but the overhead involved in redeeming the coupons, even at a massive scale, would largely wipe out the gross. Second: was it true as Ponzi claimed that 160 million IRCs were circulating in the United States, ready to be redeemed out of country? The post office said, no – there were actually only 27,000. More important, most post bureaux across the States only had maybe a couple in stock each at any time, because back then most people either didn't know what they were or if they did had no reason to use them.

"The fallout was massive. People rushed to cash out. When all the havoc was done, $20 million was wiped off the map, and Ponzi got twelve years – three federal, nine state. Of course, he had to pay restitution which he could not."

"Well, the commodity here – real estate, precious metals, whatever – has to be involved here and it has to be of a large enough scale," said Peter. "But … wait a minute. Luxembourg is not a tax shelter country, its membership in the EU forbids that. And to be blunt, guys, this is a matter for the SEC, not the DIA."

"Peter, you need to understand that Luxembourg has some of the toughest bank secrecy laws in Europe. They make Monaco and Switzerland look like blabbermouths," said Shelby. "And regarding your second point – the intelligence officer we came in contact with, well, let's just say her brother is a bank accountant and has discovered the money laundering but is risking his job by ratting out to us. Normally, the feds wouldn't care or as you said defer it to the regulators, except the person in question – one of our flock – is not just robbing Paul to pay Peter, he's skimming some of the profits to secretly help known terrorist groups."

"Which one?" asked Ruthie and Peter together.

"Put it this way. All of us support Israel, the democratic Israel; but we also support justice for the Palestinians. There's a band of people in that part of the world who not only favor a final solution for Palestinians - expulsion not just from the territories but also Israel proper - but also wants to destroy the democratic nature of the country and make it an absolute monarchist and very misogynistic kingdom."

"He's funneling money to _Kahane Chai - Kach_. Which has been listed as a terrorist group by the States for nearly twenty years," said Ruthie. She gasped at the implication.

"I'm pretty sure that in their pious zeal to 'support' Israel," said Rod, "those televangelist phonies also talk about how they're support rabbinical schools in Israel. Except that education is supported by the state in that country. And no one has ever bothered to check out to see if they are Kahanist fronts – or worse. Shelby and I have done some digging of our own and we think at least a few of them _are_. While we don't have definitive proof yet, if this sheep of ours has done what we think he did, he's beyond being lost, he's irredeemable. And once the fit hits the proverbial shan, the implications will be huge. Hundreds of people will be broke, and the Middle East could tip into catastrophe.

"So, guys, understand, we need to go at this very, very carefully. Shelby and I will do what do best which is counterintelligence. If we need you to do research, we'll tell you what it is but under no circumstances can you talk about it openly. Web searches and print-offs on secure terminals, and hand edits only. Don't even discuss this in pillow talk. My wife and I may discuss our military lives and our tours of duty related to that in bed, but never intelligence matters. You understand why by now."

"Our lips are sealed," promised Ruthie. "As far as anyone knows, we're simply the Reverends Camden, Connor, Parker and Petrowski. We won't tell our parents, we won't tell our siblings and of course not our kids - extremely gifted as they are, as are yours – they certainly don't need to know that a possible minion for the Devil might be in our midst."

"I wouldn't go that far, but as Dr. Seuss said, 'Loose lips sink ships,'" said Shelby.

"Well," said Peter, "I have to see Parkinson at the hospital, and Rod, you're meeting with the manager of the woman's shelter. Let's get going. Ruthie, are you okay with the kids?"

"Sure."

Once the men had left, and Ruthie and Shelby made sure their respective children were still having fun in the play room (being looked after by the executive secretary), Shelby returned with Ruthie to their office. They were taking off their gowns when Shelby turned to her colleague.

"Ruthie, there's something I need to talk to you about and I didn't want the guys to hear this. Have you got a few minutes?"

"Of course, Shelby," said Ruthie. "I'm always here to help, just as you are for me. What's up?"


	2. The Eighth Wheel

Chapter 2

Once Peter and Rod had left, Shelby signalled Ruthie over to her private office. Each of the ministers had an office of their own accessed by a key card. Although all four worked as a team, each understood that the others also had a personal case load and that unless a respective parishioner gave his or her permission, no discussion would be made about the others' files – and that each minister's office was indeed private.

The women waited for the pad to Shelby's office to go green indicating door unlocked. Once this happened, Ruthie and Shelby walked in. But rather than sit down at Shelby's desk, as Ruthie expected, they instead proceeded to the book shelf. Shelby handled a few books, and Ruthie was stunned to see the shelf give way to another, much larger door.

"A vault?" Ruthie asked. She didn't know about this feature.

"For our purposes, this is going to be necessary," replied Shelby. "I'll explain in a moment."

Shelby punched in a series of numbers rapidly. The vault unlocked and the women walked in. After a thirty second pause, the vault door closed again.

"Ruthie," said Shelby, "I'm sorry if I've spooked you, but I need to tell you three things. And this is the only truly private place to do it. So here goes. First, this room was put in by the Marines shortly before Rod and I took over the ministry. This is where we do SIGINT – signals intelligence. And it is absolutely hacker proof. No snooping possible."

"Whoa!" sputtered Ruthie. "Here?"

"Yes," replied Shelby. "In a few hours, the central computer for this church will send a coded message to the Pentagon. The mainframe for this region, in turn, will send a message back unlocking yours' and Peter's key cards so you can use this vault. You and Peter will also learn that your bookshelves are also trap-doors that have secret hallways leading to the broom closet on the other side of my office so you can enter in here when you need to. Which will be very often going forward."

"Do you mean," said Ruthie, "Peter and I have been given security clearances?"

"Top Secret, maybe higher depending on how deep this gets. Certainly much of what you will be read up on is on a need to know basis. And since you guys are involved with the finances, you do need to know."

"Shelby, there's got to be more, however, than this. Isn't stuff like the kind you're implying encrypted?"

"Yes. And you're also going to get read up on that also, in crash course format but it'll have to do. And, just so you know, Rod is giving Peter the low-down at a secure place not far from here before they go on their errands."

"Okay," said Ruthie, somewhat overwhelmed by what she was hearing so far.

"Do you know what a 'One Time Pad' is?" asked Shelby.

"I do," said Ruthie. "It's an encryption system where, as long as both sides of a message keep the code secret and destroy the decrypt or 'pad' afterwards, no one trying to intercept the message can figure out what it is. Problem is, if I'm getting your drift, that's not really going to work here. There's only so many times we can run through the possibilities before starting again and anyone with a pretty robust computer can crack it."

"True," conceded Shelby, "but we're going to have to use a pad for at least the first few days. This one will take the form of the Sudoku puzzle and a few key words in the daily crossword in the local paper, with some reference points. I'm going to give you the instructions for day one, which is tomorrow. The Sudoku will yield a few random numbers which co-relate to the puzzle. The puzzle in turn, will contain a series of letters; the number will vary from day to day until next Sunday. At that point, the string of letters will be the plug-in for what Rod and I call 'The Eighth Wheel.'"

Ruthie was bewildered. She paused, waiting for Shelby to explain.

"Ruthie, have you ever heard of The Enigma?"

"Who hasn't?" said Ruthie. "The Nazi encrypting system. You type the letter 'T' once, you might get a 'K'. Type 'T' again and it might be 'Z', and a third time it might be 'R'. Except for one thing; contrary to popular belief it was the _Poles,_ not the Americans, like Hollywood wants us to believe, who got their hands on one, and seven _years _before World War II ; and the Brits who got their hands on the one time pad a few months into the war, which had the start sequence for every day's codes. A lot of people say it cut several years off of the six-year slaughterhouse."

"Right," said Shelby. "And as I'm sure you and Peter know, what made it really ingenious is that the bad guys not only had a plug system that scrambled the letters for each keystroke, three plugs of the alphabet for the land and air forces, four at sea; but also a rotor system, again three and four, out of a selection of eight, the series for all the elements determined each day by the pad.

"However, most people know about the Enigma because _60 Minutes _blew the lid off of it nearly forty years ago, deliberately violating secrecy laws. The argument the network made at the time was, the war had been long over, and the code was way outdated anyway. True enough, but the _real_ reason the military was so angry about the breach was this: Even factoring in a four rotor and plug system, a message could be unencrypted with a brute force attack of just 380 bits."

"Most banks use 128. Makes my check book really secure," noted Ruthie sarcastically.

"Yeah," agreed Shelby. "So while Rod and I spent some time at War College and getting up some elective credits for our divinity degrees, we got to wondering, what if we just went all the way and went with an _eight_ rotor and eight plug set-up? It took my husband and I about an hour and twenty minutes using a combination of algebra, trigonometry and calculus, but we figured that we could get it up to at least 809.5 _exobits_. Of course, electronically, not a mechanical one.

"To prove what we had come up on, we issued an open challenge by an e-mail blast to the cadets at the four academies to crack a simple one, the 23rd Psalm. Out of 6000 plus students, only one figured it out, and by her admission it took three hundred attempts before she figured out how to get the simulator to run through the possibilities. Yes, it is true a brute force could probably still decode an Enigma message with eight turns and plugs, but most people would never even bother to try. The one-time pad that will be generated as a start will have a string of 128 letters. We need that kind of confidence to root out even the 'ethical' hackers, the kind that test government computers on purpose to help The Man can stay one step ahead of the _really_ bad guys."

"You guys should be at the Pentagon. You're geniuses!" said Ruthie in admiration.

"Thanks, but not really. I'm sure the bad guys can figure this one out eventually. At least what we've talked about until now. But this is how it's _really _going to work. For the first four weeks, you and Peter will be working with an eight wheel system. The pad on day one will begin with the rotor sequence, plug and start positions, twenty-four letters in all. The rest of the first pad will be a welcome message as well as a sequence to use to confirm you've decoded it correctly. In future messages, you and Peter will get mostly the same, except that starting in week two, when you two begin to get classified intelligence, the rotor sequence for the next day will be at the _end_ of the message.

"And, to make it more interesting, we'll add two rotors and plugs each on the simulator every two weeks after that; 10 rotors and plugs in week 4, 12 in week 6, and so on until we get up to the max of 26. That's the most the Pentagon systems can hope to handle at this time but hopefully the situation won't get that far. Just to be sure however, the greatest each message will have is 1000 letters in blocks of five each, at least until we get up to 16 turns.

"Now, I'm going to say this again, Ruthie. I cannot stress enough the severity of this. Rod and I had to pull a lot of strings to get you and Peter a TS classification, so don't misuse it. Any communications between you and relevant agencies, military and civilian, must be done only in this room. Do not say anything on the way in. Don't say anything when you leave. And absolutely, never ever, discuss this when you and Peter are in the car, at dinner, taking care of your kids, or having sex."

"Shelby, you put a lot on us when you and Rod hired us. The last thing we would dream of doing now is compromising national security. Both my grandfathers worked for the government. My dad and my sisters are ministers. I have _some_ concept of discretion!"

"Thank you," said Shelby. "I just wanted to be clear about that."

"All right," said Ruthie, "with that out-of-the-way, you said there were two other things."

"Okay: Second. It's the twins' seventh birthday next Friday, as well as mine. Rod and I are having a party. I hope you guys could come."

"Did we have to discuss _that _in the vault?" laughed Ruthie. "Of course we'll come, all four of us. After all my kids have the same birthday too. We should work on this together."

"Good. Now, here's the third," said Shelby. "I told you earlier that I have a contact in Luxembourg, the one who's assisting us on this investigation?"

"Sure."

"Well, Ruthie, I need your advice on something. Just before we ended our meeting, which was at a private back room of a restaurant - well, this woman, she ... well ... she kissed me."

"Like a peck on the cheek? That's just what Europeans do all the time. Even guys do that. It's nothing!" said Ruthie.

"No Ruthie. She kissed me on the lips, uninvited," replied Shelby. "She held it for five seconds and then she to French me. I pulled away, telling her I was married to a great guy and I just didn't do that. She was very apologetic and promised she'd never do that again. The problem is – well, the flight back to Dulles was a total daze for me, and the connection to here in St. Louis had my head spinning."

Ruthie paused, letting this sink in. Then she shook her head and looked directly into Shelby's eyes.

"Are you a lesbian?"

"No, of course not!"

"You're bi-sexual, or think you could be?"

"Before this trip, I would have definitely said no. But ever since I got back here a few days ago, well I don't know," said Shelby sullenly. "I'm not sure anymore if I'm straight, or if I go both ways, walk the same street, am just curious? Or is 'asexual' a choice of lifestyle? Meaning that I really don't like being with either a man or a woman?"

"I think Paula Poundstone has the market cornered on that last one," said Ruthie, a bit smugly.

Shelby laughed. Then she said, "Ruthie, I don't know what to do. I mean, your sister Lucy is bi-sexual, isn't she?"

"She is," replied Ruthie, "but she made a promise to Kevin to stay faithful to him after her one-night stand with Roxanne. Far as I know she's kept that promise and I don't think she'd want to give you advice, especially as a fellow minister. Besides which, we talk on the phone maybe once a week. And we certainly _don't_ discuss our respective sex lives! And just so you know, the 'other woman' in that one, Roxanne, well she and Chandler finally reconciled a few months ago and ended their 'duplex' arrangement. And that's in spite of the fact that Cathy is doing so well at school you'd never guess she has autism. Even her speech patterns are as close to 'normal' as one can hope for."

"Savant, is she?" asked Shelby.

"She's great on the piano as well at school, but that word might be unkind to her," replied Ruthie. "In any case, Roxanne has also decided she wants to be a chaplain for the NYPD, so I don't think she'd want to give you advice either. Not on that."

"Look, Ruthie," said Shelby, "I'm sorry if that came off as a curve ball to you ..."

"Try, a deliberate bean-ball. That one I never saw coming -"

"... please let me finish, Ruthie. Rod and I actually haven't had sex for the last six months. We haven't even given each other so much as a peck on the cheek. Not that we've argued or anything, it's just we've come up with any number of reasons to avoid each other. We have the same bed still, but we haven't so much as held hands in that time. And after what happened to me last week, well I need to know who I am. What I am and what I want to be." Shelby sighed. "I'm going to have to take a week or two off to sort this out in my head."

"I hope you do," said Ruthie, "because while the city slickers who attend our church tend to be rather tolerant on these kinds of things, those from the back forty may not be so much. You will always have my vote of confidence, but ultimately the employment of all four of us is up to the congregation. I don't have my father and sister to back me up anymore. This charge is my own and I can only get their advice, not marching orders. Shelby, have you even talked to your parents about this?"

"Uh-huh. Mom said just think before I act. Dad says I should just come out."

"He thinks you're a lesbian?"

"Bisexual," replied Shelby. "But that's his read. He's probably wrong. Or he could be right. I don't know."

"You absolutely have to talk to Rod about this," said Ruthie. "Tell him the truth. Peter and I can't offer counselling because of the conflict of interest here but we'll definitely find one of our contacts to help. Shelby, you and Rod and I are friends going back a long way. You two may be as different as night and day but you work grandly together as parents, as ministers and as Marines. Please, don't do anything that might be deemed as 'conduct unbecoming.'"

"Well, I'm going to have to rely on you for at least a while because someone's going to have to hold me up from falling down."

"I'm here for you. You know that. Just call me. We don't need a secure vault for that."

"Thanks," said Shelby. She and Ruthie walked out the vault, out the padded door and down to the nursery to pick up their respective children.

"Oh, and Ruthie?" as they headed to their vans.

"Yeah?"

"Good luck tomorrow on the ham radio exam. Can't wait to see your call sign on _your _van."

"I appreciate it. See you in the morning," said Ruthie. As she and her children drove away from the parking lot, Ruthie pounded her fist against the driver's side window. _What in God's name have I gotten myself into?! _she asked herself.


	3. Nothing to Forgive

Chapter 3

Several hours later, Shelby came back to Parsonage #1, on the other side of the sprawling parking lot from the church building that housed the sanctuary, a daycare and related ministries as well as the corporate offices. The ranch home had a distinctively Southwestern façade on the outside and a rural Midwest look on the inside. As the minister / Marine / spy walked in, she knew that what Ruthie had said was right - she had to tell the truth to Rod and face the consequences.

She unbuttoned her jacket and nudged out the lanyard around her neck that had the same swipe card that she used to navigate the "Mother House" - her and Rod's residence, as well as Ruthie and Peter's about a thousand feet to the east, had their security systems linked up to the church's after an attempted break-in a couple of years ago. Holding the card, she took a deep breath.

"Here goes," said Shelby. She quickly said the prayer of St. Francis of Assisi, then tapped the card. The light on the pad changed from red to green and the strike plate clicked. She walked in, fully expecting an argument with Rod and a huge lecture, if not an argument or even Rod walking out.

What she got was totally unexpected.

Rod had sat on the sofa. As soon as she walked in, Rod ran over to her and gave her a huge kiss - at least as deep as the ones he and his wife shared while making love.

"Rod!" said Shelby. "That's so nice of you, but there's something I have to tell you ..."

"I know all about it, Shelby," said Rod, "and I don't care!"

"Wait," said Shelby, "you know about what happened in Luxembourg City? How do you know?"

Shelby made a point of keeping her contacts secret - so much so that Rod didn't know about them; any more than Shelby knew about most of his contacts.

"Your contact made a point of communicating with me using the secure channels," said Rod. "She said she felt so awful about her attempting to seduce you that she apologized to me, and wanted to smooth the waters as it were. Not only that she did provide a lot more details about the worm we and the other guys are trying to nail as well, and although she hasn't given up a name yet, the parameters have narrowed it down to about a dozen of our parishioners - eight men and four women. She said she wanted to continue to be a source for both of us, and that what she tried to do had no malice in it."

"And, what did you tell her?" said Shelby. Her voice was shaking.

"I told her there was nothing to forgive," shrugged Rod. "I told her she made a mistake, and as long as she didn't try it again with you or anyone else, she was entitled to a free pass. Besides which, you didn't sleep with her."

"What if I had?" Shelby was starting to feel the weight buckle under her knees.

"You didn't, and even if you had, I would have let it go. Don't forget, a lot of our colleagues in the Corps have gone further and they have had to deal with bigger fish."

"So, you forgive me? I don't even know ..."

"Shel, even if you were bi, and you know you're not, I wouldn't care. You've been faithful to me, our kids, this church and the Corps. You always will be. There's nothing to forgive - period."

Shelby burst into tears. This had turned out completely different from what she expected. It was at this moment that she realized that her and Rod's decision to elope wasn't a rush to judgement - that he had loved her from the start, flaws and all. For her part, she thought to herself, she had loved Rod long before they even met with Lucy's help when she needed some help on a class assignment; long before the sparks flew it it was just the promise of him. Now, she at last realized, she was truly loved.

"Shhhhh," said her husband, kissing her again. This was the deepest kiss outside of bed they ever had in their marriage up to this point. Rod had his tongue inside of Shelby's mouth, running it all around inside her mouth, for nearly two minutes. After taking nearly half a minute to catch both their breaths, Shelby returned the favour for ninety seconds.

Rod took his wife's hand and they walked into the den. The gas fireplace was running at full steam, and a $30 bottle of red wine was lying at an angle inside a bucket of ice. Next to it, a prepared a four course meal that Rod had spent the last few hours preparing - vichysoisse, caesar salad, prime rib steaks medium well, and lemon merengue pie.

"That will have to wait," said Rod. He pointed to the rug in front of the fireplace. "First, we shag."

"What about our kids? Who's taking care of them?" said Shelby

"Ruthie and Peter," said Rod. "On condition we babysit theirs when they have their next night out at home."

Rod placed his shoulder on Shelby's jacket. He carefully removed it while starting to kiss her again. Following his lead, Shelby unbuttoned Rod's cardigan. This continued one article of clothing at a time. They then took off each other's shoes. Now, only their undergarments remained. All this time, they were kissing each other's lips, earlobes and necklines, over and over again.

Rod nudged the clasp on Shelby's bra and then having unhooked it liberated her breasts. At this point he began drawing her down to the rug. He began to massage her bosoms and took turns kissing and sucking on each's other's peaks. Shelby moaned in pleasure. As he continued pleasuring her, she reached down and pulled off his undershirt. Once he had done kissing her breasts, she returned the favour on his chest.

Shelby now took the lead. She turned Rod over, and pulled off his boxers. His manhood sprung up. Shelby bent down on her knees and licked it over and over on all sides. After two minutes of this, she then took the shaft inside her mouth and sucked on it up and down, again for another two minutes.

Rod was grunting with pleasure, having a hard time holding it back for the Main Event. Finally, he signalled that he wanted to do the next step. Shelby obliged and parted her legs slightly. Rod ran two fingers down the hairy triangle in the front. After rubbing them against the peak next to her heaven's gate, he bent down where his fingers were. He spent the next two minutes licking the peak while running his fingers through the gate. Then another two minutes of the other way.

Shelby was having a wonderful time of it. She had long agreed to going to the mouth with her husband. Her only condition was that he never would take her from behind aiming for Number Two. Doing it like non human mammals did, yes. That, no. She was moaning more and more and more. She then sat up briefly and pinched her husband on the forehead, gently, telling him it was time.

Rod sat up, and grabbed his shaft, rubbing it on the side several times to make sure he and it was ready. He took his wife to the rug fully. She spread her legs wider and he obliged her by slipping himself into her very slowly, pulling in and out a half-inch until she begged for more, then one inch and so on until she started shaking violently. Knowing his moment had come, he grabbed her by her hips while she bragged her legs around his back tighter than she ever had with min. He then put himself inside of her and thrusted all the way, for nearly two minutes. Finally he made a groan that got louder and louder until finally he climaxed inside of her, about ten second after she had exploded.

They rolled over on their sides, they still one human being and sharing endearments until they finally fell asleep in each other's arms.

Both had something in mind however. They knew they couldn't say it inside the house, for it might be bugged by their enemies.

When the alarm went off the next morning at 7:30 am, the couple woke up. They smiled in absolute ecstasy and wanted morning-glory, but they realized they had an 8:30 appointment with a couple on the rocks. They had also forgotten to eat the romantic dinner. So, they rushed upstairs, shared a quickie in the shower while washing each other, then put on a fresh change of clothes. They then put the foot in the microwave and make a plate and a tray for leftovers later - along with the wine.

The doorbell rang. Ruthie and Peter were at the front door, not very happy that the principal ministers had not called them to ask if their kids could stay the night with Ruthie and Peter's kids. But the look in Rod and Shelby's eyes gave it away so they let it drop.

After seeing all their kids off, the ministers walked across the sprawling parking lot and headed straight into the vault.

"Rod and I are really worried, guys," said Shelby. "My source really put herself in danger by getting in touch with Rod. It was the right thing to do, but now that everyone in several countries knows who we are, we need your help. The source wants to meet with someone who is not known. One of you guys will have to take the bait."

"I'll do it," said Ruthie. "Don't worry, Petie - remember, we dealt with a couple of murderers and a pedophile. Yes I know, this takes it to another level, but the past gave us some street smarts on top of the ones we already did."

"Be careful, Ruthie," said Peter, kissing his wife. "So guys, where does your source want to meet my wife?"

Rod took a deep breath. "The last place anyone would want to look. In front of the second biggest building on the planet. What was once meant to be a presidential palace of one of the last century's worst madmen, but is now a Parliament of a democracy."

"Bucharest, Romania. Sarah Glass told me about that one. She worked for six months in the mining towns of Transylvania tending to really sick patients for a humanitarian agency. Man, the SOB who ordered its building had an even bigger ego than Louis XIV who built Versailles," said Ruthie. "Well, at least that country is now one of our allies. I wouldn't have that of that place, not in a million years."

"Ruthie, your tickets will be at the airport," said Shelby. "Direct flight from here to Frankfurt, then a partner airline the rest of the way. You leave Thursday night, arrive Friday afternoon. After you meet here, and address each other by code phrases - which will be given to you by an undercover Mountie on the first leg -"

"A Mountie?" asked Ruthie.

"And specialist in terrorism and financial fraud," replied Shelby. "She's headed to Lyon for a two-year tour of duty at Interpol, but is also looking for the same coward as we are. She won't say anything other than hello and an exchange of e-mail addresses. When you meet my contact, you will then go to a hotel for the next three days. She will outline everything she and her brother know up to this point. You will then return home three days later by a different route."

"Shel?"

"Yes?"

"Is it someone I know?"

"Actually ... yes. When you see her in Bucharest, you'll know who it is even before she introduces you."


	4. The Roughriders

Chapter 4

1,600 miles away in Glen Oak, California, in an otherwise pleasant 19th century manor, a married couple were about to engage in the biggest argument since they had exchanged vows.

The Rev. Lucy Camden Kinkirk, for several years now the undisputed pastor of Glen Oak Community Church, had just finished serving breakfast to her husband, Police Captain Kevin Kinkirk, and to their four children – twelve year old twins Charles John and Jennifer Ruth, ten year old Rhiannon Ruthie (who was delivered when Lucy went into labor immediately after she baptized Peter), and seven year old William Henry.

William Henry, so named such because Lucy and Kevin were admirers of the heirs presumptive to the British throne, was conceived shortly before Ruthie and Peter's honeymoon. It had been a very close call because Lucy had cheated on Kevin with Chandler on the same night Kevin had an affair with Roxanne. Roxanne had conceived another daughter – Rita, who fortunately didn't have autism as Catherine had – and both Roxanne and Lucy were so worried that they had to resort to nearly three weeks of sex every night with their actual husbands as overcompensation and in hopes that if they were pregnant that their children were not products of their adultery. DNA tests finally vindicated everyone and to everyone's relief, but not before Lucy and Roxanne had an affair with each other too as payback to their husbands for cheating with the wrong woman in the first place.

Lucy then served her parents, Eric and Annie Camden (he the semi-retired "Pastor in Association" of the church). She was shaking as she served orange juice to the kids and coffee to her husband and parents. Finally, she couldn't bear it anymore.

"Kevin, what in God's name was last night all about?" Lucy screamed.

"Luce, you shouldn't be raising your voice in front of our daughters and sons. And you shouldn't be talking about this in front of them either," said Kevin.

"That's not happening this time, Kev," replied Lucy, still seething. "I'm going to say this now. And _they're _going to hear it too because they need to learn about how to treat someone of the opposite sex – or even the _same _sex – in bed! They know what sex is, they've _all _spied on you and me _having_ sex, so they stay here."

Annie and Eric had spent a weekend in Las Vegas and had pulled in just a half-hour before into the driveway of the parsonage where they still lived as guests of their daughter and son-in-law. They had no idea what was going on, but knew if their always stubborn daughter had something to say, especially if she was pissed off about it, she'd say it.

"Mom," said Rhiannon, "I could hear you guys all the way down the other end of the hall last night. Two and a half hours of screaming – mostly from you. Chuck and Jenny who're next door to you and Dad were so scared they ran into my bedroom. Henry had to turn up his boom box all the way up so he wouldn't hear. I know you guys are still crazy for each other. But what happened? We're your kids, we need to know!"

"I'll tell you what happened," said her mother...

... at which point Kevin tried to raise his hand...

"... DONT SPEAK, Kevin!" screamed Lucy. "I have something to say, and I'll say it my way and now! What you did was inexcusable. We didn't make love. I don't think we even had sex. In fact, you came dangerously close to spousal assault!"

She went back to the fridge, poured out a tall glass of water from the ice dispenser, and sat down. She took a minute to try to calm down, to say what she wanted to say without raising the rafters. At last she found her place. She drank about a half pint and looked at Kevin.

"I don't you what happened yesterday to you, or at work, that got you on the wrong foot when you got home last night, Kevin. Okay, let's just clarify that. Was it good or bad?"

"Actually, Lucy, it was good. Or it started that way. Early in the morning before dawn, two days ago, my partner Billie Thompson and I pulled off a bust of a huge heroin op run by a guy who was also distributing child pornography. And this was way beyond the depraved collection that Frank Henderson did years ago – we're talking kids as young as three being abused. Other than RHB, it doesn't get bigger than that. And by huge – we're talking about twenty years in federal prison, then decades more in state.

"Well, Billie and me wanted to have a few drinks after work to celebrate along with platters of salmon and steak – you know, surf and turf – with the trimmings. And we did meet for lunch, with her boyfriend, Jason O'Leary, who's also on the force. And we split the tab three ways. But she's been late a few days, after she and Jay have tried for the last seven years to get pregnant, and she didn't want to take the chance. For what it's worth, last night the test came back positive."

"That's terrific!" Lucy actually smiled. "I know you work so well with both of them – especially her, and you've always kept it professional. And they're both good friends of mine. Tell them I, and our kids, say congratulations; Billie and Jay really deserve to be happy, and I hope their baby is healthy."

"I will," replied Kevin. "Anyway, along with the surf and turf and in lieu of the jug of beer we would have gotten but for her being 'late', we downed a pitcher of lemonade. Which, we all found out only this morning, had a certain kind of sweetener that causes some people to hurl several hours later. Jay was okay, but Billie did just that, hurl. I was also on a bit of a buzz though not as severe, so I took a couple of gas pills and an extra anti-depressant to calm down. I thought it had worked because by the time we went to bed last night I was actually very calm. Then... well, I don't know, something happened. Something I've never done before, or thought I was capable of."

"You can't use the so-called 'Twinkie defense' on Mom, Dad," pointed out Chuck. "A couple of my classmates tried to pull that a couple years back when they tried to kiss a girl, and were reprimanded for sexual harassment. The school district is really slamming down hard on that. It's even less of a laughing matter now than when Aunt Ruthie kissed a bully at school for 'revenge' when he kissed her uninvited."

At this point, Eric finally jumped in.

"Sweetheart, I know this is getting to you, but would you just say it? Since we're all here, you don't have to say it twice," he said.

"Okay Dad," said Lucy. "I'll tell you what happened."

Lucy then began detailing the events of the earlier evening. After putting their children to bed, the couple did what they always did, a quick Bible passage reading then a prayer that God continue to bless their marriage and their children – and that when the time was right, they would have another child that was, as his or her siblings, also Christ-centered but also willing and ready to join in the family tradition of giving back while appreciating their undeserved wealth. They then kissed each other good night – and waited for a few seconds, to see if one would give the other the signal. That signal being a deeper French kiss, which meant it was time for sex.

For about a half an hour, they went through the motions that most couples do when they make love. As Kevin dumped his load inside of Lucy and he began to withdraw himself from her he found himself still very stiff - not unprecedented for him but rather unusual. He asked his wife if they could have a second go. Then a third and a fourth. Each time was quicker than the previous, but the sincerity of their lovemaking no less so. The entire episode last about an hour and ten minutes.

But Kevin's hard on wouldn't go away. His missile was three inches longer and an inch thicker than he was used to. His tea bag was bulging. And he was grimacing from pain.

Kevin was trying to figure out what was going on. It then hit him. So to speak. He kept a supply of erectile dysfunction drugs in his locker at work for when he felt like he was in the mood. He was sure that he had not taken them that day but then realized he had not only taken them but but also mixed them with his caffeine pills along with the anti-depressants and gas pills. And to his dismay, the cocktail dose was making him aggressive. He had read the label on the medication, to check into a hospital only if the erection lasted more than four hours, since failure to do so could make one _permanently_ impotent. It was less than four hours, so at first Kevin didn't seem worried. He waited a few minutes to see if there would be any relief. There was none.

He was in a lot of pain for the mix-up. The pain was only getting worse. And at this point, what Kevin should have done is to call poison control, tell them about the goof and then rush to the hospital right away. But instead, he thought of the only way he could to get rid of the hard-on. He took it out on Lucy. The sooner the better, he thought. What then followed was a classic case of naked gridiron madness.

First he spread her legs wide open, as wide as they were cinched when Lucy had given birth to their twins. (Rhiannon was born by a caesarian section due to an extremely long period of labor, and so was William because Lucy and Kevin didn't want to take any chances.)

Kevin then began fingering her to get her lubed up again, then shoved himself inside her with uncommon ferocity. He stroked like this for nearly ten minutes. Since he was hard and her insides were all soft, Lucy was screaming with pain. She wanted to tell him to stop but she didn't know how.

But it didn't get any better. Since he now found himself incapable of mustering up any amount of cream, he then turned her over and started pushing inside of her doggie style. After another fifteen minutes of this, there then came a half hour of his shoving himself up her _derrière_ – with no lubrication. Lucy was now screaming so loud that she begged God repeatedly to make it stop.

At last, Lucy had enough. Using all the strength she could muster, she threw her husband up into the air about a foot. He landed on his stomach but only briefly enough to allow Lucy to force Kevin on his back, quickly reach into the bed drawer, retrieve a stretch of yachting rope, and tie him down to the bedposts. Next she went into the second drawer, grabbed her vibrator, put it up her husband's butt, and turned it on all the way so that he couldn't bear it. She then grabbed her husband's epic flag-post as hard as she could, and began sucking on it while squeezing the head over and over.

It took about seven minutes, but at last he gave her a load more than sufficient enough for her to swallow – with gratitude from him – and another three for him to become flaccid again. In fact, Lucy would later tell Kevin, she was sure he had produced enough cream that would normally be two months of a normal male's production. She saw it as a late night milkshake of sorts. At least it was much sweeter than normal and it was sweet to begin with, if that was a consolation prize for the torture she had gone through.

Lucy would spend the rest of the night sleeping on the floor inside a sleeping bag on top of an air mattress, while making a point of keeping Kevin tied up, naked, until sunrise. And now that it was morning and after she told her parents and children what happened, Lucy finally calmed down but was still livid.

"I don't know what happens at work some days, Kevin. But as a minister, I _can't _leave my job at work. I'm on call all day and all night. And I will be until the Big Timekeeper calls me to His home. You however have to leave work at the end of the shift, as if nothing is going on, and you can't take the work with you. I'm not going to press charges, because to be fair I've wanted it rough for some time.

"But three things are going to happen between you and me. One, we're not having any sex, _at all,_ for ninety days. You need to re-learn if you have forgotten that sex is a privilege and not a right. Two, if we're going to go psycho on sex, ever again, we give each other a minimum of three days notice, and we take turns on who gets to be slave and master."

"Maybe a bit TMI, Mom," said Jenny.

"Sorry, honey," said Lucy.

"It's okay," grinned her daughter. "The kids at school tell us about what their parents do, all the time. All we tell them is, our Mom and Dad love each other very much, they have great sex, and that's good enough for us!"

"Heck, guys," added William, "we don't care what you do behind closed doors. Actually, I don't mind telling my classmates _what_ you do. My sibs and I are proud you love each other enough that you still make love, even the really kinky stuff. And we can't wait until when you guys create Number Five. Just try to pipe it down going forward, please!"

"Thank you, guys, and we will," said their mother. "But this is number three, Kevin. You and Billie are going to go to all the schools in the district and tell the kids something they should know already – that no means no, and if anyone tries to take advantage of them they should go to someone they trust. Even if they're in a consenting relationship, and whether we like it or not most kids are by the time they're thirteen, they have the right to set limits as to what they'll do for sex and what they won't. I'm sure your parents taught you better. It's time to do the same for the kids, not just ours but the kids in the community at large."

"No problem, Luce," said Kevin. "I'm really sorry, it won't happen again. And I'll talk to Billie as soon as she and Jay get back from Vegas this weekend– now they've got the good news, they're eloping."

"I'll send them a gift basket when Billie's back at her desk on Monday."

"Eric," said Annie, "maybe we should go into the attic and finish this breakfast. The six guys here all need to finish what they have to say."

Eric agreed, and took his plate and cup with him as Annie did with hers.

As the elder Camdens left the room, the phone rang. Rhiannon answered the phone on speaker phone. She recognized the caller's voice instantly.

"Roxanne!" she said. "How's Chandler? Catherine and Rita too?"

"Not now, Ree ... maybe later but this is urgent. May I speak to the Reverend, please?"

"Hi Roxanne," said Lucy. "How's life with the NYPD?"

"Pretty good," said Roxie. "But I don't have time to make nice. I need you to come down to Chief Michael's office downtown. I'm here with him and there's something going on."

"What?"

"Ruthie's life is in big danger. Or may be. So is that of an old friend of yours. I'll explain when you get here."

"We're just having breakfast here. Can it wait?"

At this point, Michael Michaels' voice came into the speaker.

"30 minutes, Reverend."

It sounded more like an order than a request, but Lucy got the message.

"Kevin and I will be there as soon as we can, Chief – kids, please go up to the third floor and hang out with your grandparents please. This shouldn't take more than an hour."

"Sure Mom," said Chuck. He grabbed his plate and cup, and told his sisters and brother to do so with theirs as well.

"Wait," said Lucy, going back to the phone, "a friend of _mine?"_

"We'll explain when you get here," said Roxanne.

Lucy hung up the phone. She looked at Kevin. _This couldn't be good,_ they both thought.


	5. Change of Venue

Chapter 5

By the time the meeting ended two hours later, Lucy and Kevin realized that Ruthie was setting herself up for a very difficult and potentially deadly situation. But they also realized that the ever stubborn minister was also the best person placed for the contact and drop.

Ruthie in the meantime went about her business as if nothing was even remotely wrong. After her and Peter`s meeting with Shelby and Rod, she went to the communications department at the state university and took her amateur license test. She got twisted for a few minutes with the Morse code section until she pulled up her mnemonics to fill in the answers and passed with flying colors. She confirmed her new call sign and went to the DMV to get her vehicle plates changed to the call sign.

Several days later, with only a briefcase as well as a three days change of clothes and intimate apparel, Ruthie boarded her assigned plane for Frankfurt. An hour later, a forty-something woman handed her an envelope. It was a scrambled message which Ruthie expected. Very carefully, she opened up her laptop, popped up Shelby's Enigma emulator, and after plugging in the start codes she entered the message. The message that came out of the descrambler stunned her.

"Reverend Camden, there has been a major breach in security. We need to meet at Customs in Frankfurt. I'll explain when we're waived through. Please destroy this message upon reading."

Ruthie did exactly that. Several hours later, the plane arrived in Frankfurt. The moment her passport was scanned, the customs agent pointed her to an antechamber halfway down the sprawling hall. Ruthie walked down that way, getting even more nervous about this. She found the room and walked in.

"Please close the door," a woman's voice said.

Ruthie followed that instruction and turned around. She faced a woman and two men.

"Reverend Camden," said the woman who had handed her the note earlier, "my name is Jeanne-Marie Charbonneau. I am an Inspector for the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. These gentlemen are Fritz von Finklestein and Gottfried Genscher, they work for the _Bundespolizei – _the German FBI. Two days ago, they tipped me off on the fact that your rendezvous with the Luxembourg contact in Bucharest had been compromised. Despite all attempts to keep your movements secret, some one connected to whomever we're all trying to take down managed to figure out where you'd be and when."

"Terrific!" groaned Ruthie.

"All is not lost, _Hochwürden_ Camden," said Finklestein, using the German title for Reverend. "We have arranged safe conduct for you on a rail car from here to Budapest, Hungary."

"Well, at least I don't have to clear customs again," said Ruthie. "Your open borders are great."

"Once you get there," said Charbonneau, "you will get a previously hired cab to the plaza in front of the _Hungarian _Parliament." She showed Ruthie a picture of an early 20th century castle that actually looked like a medieval palace from the 10th.

"Okay, nice building," said Ruthie, "but can you absolutely guarantee that my contact and I will be safe there? I don't want to keep changing locations on the fly."

"I think you're beginning to understand the lives your fellow ministers lead as spies," said Genscher. "My wife is in the _Bundesnachrichtendienst,_ the German CIA, and there are days and nights our _kinder_ and I wonder if her next mission shall be the last. There are no guarantees, but there are now several agencies invested in this, because the fraud is even worse than first assessed. We shall do the very best we can in our power to protect you. After all, you have a family to come to also."

"Thank you," said Ruthie. "I guess the last question is, high-speed or overnight?"

"An overnight train will be leaving from Track 17 in twenty minutes."

"Where's the station?!" asked Ruthie, shocked.

"Here," said Genscher. "The airport is also the train station and the subway and tram station, and the bus station local and intercity. Two floors down, and your baggage has already been loaded into your single room."

Impressed by the level of efficiency, Ruthie thanked all three cops and made her way towards the train. She enjoyed the catered supper and slept so well that she only woke up when she was called up for breakfast which was as good as what she and Peter had on their honeymoon years ago.

She stepped into the private shower, and took advantage of the luxurious soaps and shampoos. She stroked herself all over while doing so. This was the first time in over a year that she managed to pleasure herself without Peter being around, and she came several times. If this was to be to among her last days in this life, she felt, she had the right to please herself.

Having put on a fresh change of premium brand lingerie red in color, she then put on white stockings, a blue blouse, a tan jacket and skirt, and gray high heels. She had been told her suitcase would be delivered to the room of her and her contact at a luxury hotel a few blocks from the executive government offices so she just took her briefcase with her secured computer and took the preassigned ride to the people's plaza.

For nearly a half hour, Ruthie was waiting. She began to wonder if there was some mistake – the wrong time, the wrong place. Or even worse, someone had kidnapped or murdered the contact.

Finally, a woman the same age as Lucy sat down next to her. Deliberately disguising her voice, she said, "And he left them, and went out of the city into Bethany, and he lodged there."

Matthew 21:17. That was one end of the verification.

Ruthie then said, "Behold, thou shalt call a nation that thou knowest not, and nations that knew not thee shall run unto thee because of the Lord thy God, and for the Holy One of Israel; for he hath glorified thee."

Isaiah 55:5. That was the other end.

"Reverend Camden, it's unfortunate we have to meet again under _these_ circumstances," said the woman, "but after my misjudgment a couple of weeks ago, my brother and I have had to resort to something else."

The woman's voice was still disguised. She was wearing a black hat and veil and a black dress, as if in mourning.

"Look, I agreed to come here on business, so let's get down to business," said Ruthie impatiently. "Who are you?"

The woman stood up and took off her cap. Under this was a flesh colored skullcap to make it appear she was balding as a patient in treatment might. She pulled off this and shook off her hair which was a bright auburn. Finally she pulled off her fake eyebrowns and eyelashes.

"Now, Ruthie, do you remember me?" said the woman in her natural voice.

"Lisa Lumby!" Ruthie could barely stand up in shock as she walked over and hugged Lucy's old friend from Habitat for Humanity. Lisa had once been raped by a would-be stepfather and needed Eric's help to get her mother out of denial about "the incident" and that the act of violence wasn't Lisa's fault.

"Wow, you look great! Now, I have to ask you, how did you get involved in this mess? Well, let's back up. How did you ever end up in Luxembourg?"

"I'll discuss the first when we get back to the hotel room which has been swept for all bugs," said Lisa. She motioned Ruthie to walk alongside her, indicating they would be strolling to the hotel. "The second ... well, my much older brother was already out of the country at the time I was raped. Had he been around he would have _killed_ the coward. Seriously, he wanted to murder him and still has a death wish. I finally met up with my bro again when he needed a babysitter for his and his wife's kids – she's French – and I liked the city so much I became a teacher. I met another guy who was really nice. Our affair only lasted a year, but it produced twins. Mind you he and I still have sex, even though I came out as a lesbian four years ago."

"If you're a lesbian," asked Ruthie, " why are you still sexing the ex?"

"Because as much as I enjoy the company of women – well, the woman I'm with is my brother's now _ex-wife_ ..." Lisa let Ruthie sink that in for a minute. She continued, "well, I just can't orgasm the same way with her. Even a vibrator doesn't do it, so I need the real thing which I get once a month. He wears a condom and I'm on the pill. And all of us live together, in the same house, and get along, all the kids get along, and we just leave it there."

Of all the living arrangements Ruthie heard of, this was the strangest one of all. And it became obvious quickly how Lisa and her brother, Thomas, could easily become the victims of blackmail.

It didn't take long to reach the hotel. They went up to the nineteenth floor and Lisa swiped in. As promised, Ruthie's suitcase was in front of her bed. She put her briefcase on the table next to the window, and after closing the blinds, Ruthie turned to Lisa.

"Lisa, now that I am here, would you please tell me what is going on?"

"Well, to stop an iceberg, you need to blast the bottom and not the top," said Lisa. "But the rot starts at the top, so we need to deal with that first. So let me ask you, do you know what a 'brother and sister' is in the money world?"

"Two bills of different denominations that were printed in the same year and have identical serial numbers," replied Ruthie. She had been tipped off about this by Rod. "The higher the denominations and the lower the serial number, the more valuable. Especially when it's gold certificates or bonds of different values."

"Yes," said Lisa. "Auction denizens love them. They're also very easy to forge too. Most countries and corporations who issue bonds no longer issue paper instruments for that reason. Simply serial numbers on a computer, attached to the name and address of the holder. But imagine if you hack into their computers and create a bond with a fake serial number and a fake denomination and then you try to sell the fake 'sister' with a real 'brother'? Then on top of that, you get people to invest in the fake bonds too? And with _religious_ motives?"

"I don't like where this is going," said Ruthie.

"Trust me, it gets worse," said Lisa. "When Thomas stumbled on this, he had to make a few emergency swaps to save his bank _ten billion euros. _He then checked into a hospital for a panic attack - although it was awfully close to a heart attack. That's when he asked me to get a hold of another friend of mine from high school, Shelby."

Ruthie opened up her laptop.

"All right, Lisa, tell me what you've got."


	6. The Art of the Steal

Chapter 6

Although Shelby and Rod had initially told Ruthie she'd need three days to get briefed on the extent of the fraud, they actually made a point of quietly giving her a week if and only if she needed it.

However it turned out that even the three days were unnecessary. Although Lisa was an educator by trade, she also had a very expansive memory capable of understanding any subject. Hers was not the rare and truly photographic memory like the actress Marilu Henner and a handful of other people have, but Lisa was somehow able to absorb the massive amount of financial data that Thomas had briefed her on for several months. Lisa reorganized the data in her mind so she could brief Ruthie in the most efficient way possible. When Lisa wasn't grading student papers or looking after her children, she had produced a massive dossier of evidence, nearly ten thousand pages worth, and loaded onto a CD-ROM which she handed to Ruthie to be encrypted and sent on to the SEC and the FBI.

While Ruthie's laptop was doing the scrambling in the background, Lisa was dictating an executive summary that could be presented to prosecutors as a heads up on how to proceed, before a grand jury was convened. It took the two women exactly eleven hours to put together a 300 page brief (Ruthie was an extremely fast typist, able to write up to 30 pages an hour) that could be presented as a cover letter of sorts with Lisa only stopping when Ruthie needed to clarify a point or concept. This summary, too, was encrypted in real time.

As Lisa explained it, a series of people working inside the bond business had figured out a way to hack into government and corporate computers, strip out the ten lowest serial numbers in each issue, then produce a fake bond amount with the same serial number – the "brother and sister" principle, but they had taken it to the level of a scam. In effect, the computers were tricked into thinking the government or corporation in question was borrowing money it had _never_ borrowed.

There were actually two sets of instruments. One were treasury bills (or T-Bills), usually of three to twelve months duration, and were designed to help with short term cash flow issues, sold at a discount and which paid off the face amount at maturity, the difference being the interest. Two were long term bonds of two to thirty years to finance capital projects, that were either sold as a discount (known as zero coupon bonds which paid out only at the end with interest, like T-Bills); or sold at face value and paid interest twice yearly until the bond matured ("coupon bonds", although the coupon strips had long been obsolete). In either case, the higher the interest rate, the lower the implied entry price of the bond.

Bonds aren't cheap, Lisa pointed out. These are _not_ savings bonds, the successor to war bonds. These have denominations that start at $25,000 and go up into the tens of millions. Moreover, on the secondary market, depending on the risk, bonds may sell above par (meaning the investor may lose some principal at the end, but can still be sure that he or she will at least get the interest), or below par (which means a higher effective interest rate, but the lower the going price the higher the risk of losing everything).

"Hence," replied Ruthie, "why bonds are rated - anywhere from Prime or AAA, and onward down to such levels as medium risk, speculative, junk - or the worst, default."

"Too much CNBC, Ruthie?" laughed Lisa.

"The other guys and I aren't real experts, but we do trade online," admitted Ruthie. "Mostly low to medium risk, like stocks and mutual funds. We do earn enough in capital gains to make it worth our while, and it does add a fair bit of cash – twenty to thirty thousand each – on top of our church stipends which approaches about a hundred thousand per. But we've _never _dealt with precious metals, foreign exchange or bonds. We know how to trade in them, but it's just too effing risky for our stomachs." Ruthie, of course, didn't say effing - she dropped the F-bomb.

"I can't blame you," agreed Lisa. "I don't either. But Tom sure knows how to. Mid six figures every year is proof."

Furthermore, continued Lisa, if a company goes bankrupt or a country defaults, it's the bondholders, those who have _loaned_ the company or government money, who get first call on reorganization or liquidation. Shareholders, those who actually _own_ the company (if the company is a public one) are often the last if there is anything left. So it's better to hold a bond, rather than a share.

With that basic explanation out of the way, Lisa detailed how the fraud unfolded.

In essence, once a fake bond had been created, it would float on the market. But instead of the company or government getting the cash, it would be rogue dealers or traders getting the money. And they would continue to do so, including getting the regular interest payments from the "borrower". Some of the early investors who may (or may not) have known any better would get the money back as it was put in escrow. Later buyers who bought the bonds would see money changing hands but there would be nothing backing it.

More important, if someone wanted to redeem a bond early, even at a penalty, the government or company would have to hand out money it didn't even _have to_ pay back. Paired with a _real_ bond, it was the financial equivalent of double jeopardy. Wealthier and larger countries and companies might be able to afford the hit because they could also go after those who had "punk'd" them. Less well off states and corporations, not so much – and their often shaky economies or structures would nosedive in no time at all.

Since most people can't come up with even the basic entry level amounts to get into the game, they instead pay for units in mutual funds that invest in bonds. These come with commissions but it makes playing the market easier. And it spreads (and potentially reduces) risk across many investors because, in turn with a larger pool of money, there are usually in turn big portfolios of bonds from a variety of issuers. When it came time for redemption, the same problem would happen. Early investors would see returns, but later ones would keep waiting. And banks and brokerages who had set up funds in good faith wouldn't get their principal back either.

Thomas' trade panic was just the tip of the iceberg that Lisa spoke of. Dozens of reputable fund managers and traders the world over finally caught on about the same time, after the scheme had gone on unnoticed for five years. While bonds and mutual funds do not normally qualify for deposit insurance, banks were prepared to dip into their resources to help out their unwitting customers get at least some of their money back. At least the customers of the larger ones – smaller banks couldn't, which meant their customers would get no luck at all with getting their money.

The big banks would then have to turn to their insurance companies, who in turn would have to turn to the reinsurance companies – insurance for the insurance companies – and after such a bailout from reinsurance, _their_ premiums would spike and they'd have to pass those costs on to consumers and businesses who took out policies. Bottom line - life, liability, automobile and real estate policies for everyone around the world could potentially triple. And when that happened in just a few months, there would be an unprecedented revolt by policy holders.

"In total, nearly _one trillion dollars _had to be put in over a weekend to stop the fraud - or at least the first wave," said Lisa. "It's incredible that weeks later there still haven't been any leaks about it."

"That's about as much money as the federal government back home collects in taxes - _in four months!"_ said a shocked Ruthie.

"Brace yourself for the _real_ shocker," replied Lisa.

If that was all to it, she said, confidence in the world's systems would be shaken bad enough. But it became even more sinister after Thomas and many of his colleagues worldwide had an emergency conference call to figure out what had been going on.

Among those on the conference call were Mike Pearce, Lucy's one time boyfriend, and his wife Elena Casey, both of whom were now living in Sydney. Both were very successful desk traders although at competing firms. And one day, one very suspicious transaction caught Elena's eye. It was for a brother and sister – one being $2 million, the other for a rather odd amount, $800,000. Both were traded at the same time. She pulled up the transaction record to find out who were the buyer and seller. To Elena's dismay, all that came up were post office boxes.

But Mike had done some legwork for his wife (after she told him about the unusual nature of the transaction during pillow talk), and he discovered that the renters of the boxes were two militant members of the concept know as "British Israelism". This notion espouses that there are "Ten Lost Tribes of Israel" and that several of them had migrated to Western Europe after the fall of Jerusalem in AD 70. Therefore, most white British and American people, as well as whites in former British colonies, are the direct descendants of those scattered tribes.

Ruthie laughed when she heard the BI phrase – and with cause for she, Lucy and their father not only knew the alleged genetic links had long been busted by legitimate science, but the overall concept was also un-biblical. Worse, as some believers interpreted an already heretical concept for their own purposes, it had become a stealthy _racist _concept. The most controversial parts of the revised doctrine were that the British Royal Family are directly descended from King David (which even many in the House of Windsor itself, have long dismissed), that Germans are actually Assyrians and therefore genetically disposed to commit evil (which the BIs say explain the two World Wars and what are the ulterior motives behind the creation of the European Union), and that while whites are collectively chosen by God to spread the word, other races are collectively damned and it is only _individuals_ within those groups who can seek salvation for themselves. They would also make a point of trying to co-relate everything going on in the news to what is written in the Bible and then stand on their "perfect" record of predictions, but refuse to acknowledge those they got wrong - _hundreds_ of them. And, oh yes, they also said the Catholic Church was trying to take over the world - even though they claimed they didn't hate Catholics on an_ individual_ level.

Ruthie had as a very young child found infomercials produced by such "churches" to be way too entertaining to believe, but still fun to watch so she could sort out how her understanding of "apologetics" contrasted to such ridiculous claims. But she stopped watching them altogether as a teenager when she did a book report on cults in her freshman year in high school and discovered to her horror that one of the main proponent churches of BI opposed the Civil Rights Movement, and later openly supported _apartheid _in South Africa and still insisted that the country was worse off now, than before the system was abolished in 1994. As well, the church also once had a rogue member who in 1969 set a fire inside a mosque next to the Dome of the Rock in a deliberate attempt to trigger Armageddon - without church authorization, or so it claimed.

Mike then asked Elena to see if there were any more suspicious trades or bond issues. She found literally _hundreds_. All of these, it seemed, were created at the same time one of two things happened – a terrorist attack in Israel or the Occupied Territories, _or_ when a settlement was created.

Settlements separated from Israel but which effectively operated as "exclaves" of the country were considered illegal by the international community, even most of its allies; unlike _legal_ exclaves such as Port Roberts, Washington, or Angle Inlet, Minnesota, both part of the United States but which can only be accessed by going through Canada.

However, Elena noticed a huge spike in bond trades when a settlement _even Israel_ considered illegal was created. These were created by an entire crop of rogue Jewish elements and their American "supporters". Although Mike and Elena had no proof that _Kahane Chai - Kach _was involved (although they suspected it), Lisa said she and Thomas wouldn't be surprised either.

This was a group formed in 1971, and was so extreme that it was barely tolerated by Israel to begin with; but it was outlawed all together and forced underground in 1994 after a rogue Israeli connected to the group murdered twenty-nine and wounded one hundred twenty five more at the Cave of the Patriarchs in Hebron, West Bank; one of the very few sites considered holy to Jews, Muslims _and _Christians (tradition holds the cave holds the bodies of Abraham and Sarah, Isaac and Rebecca, and Jacob and Leah). Conspicuously, many BIers who supported KCK merely downplayed the terrorist act if they were asked their reaction. In fact, they bemoaned the banning of KCK saying they were doing the will of God - demolishing democracy. They claimed that since the Bible doesn't mention democracy it shouldn't exist, just as Christmas and Easter shouldn't exist either for that reason.

"Oh give me a break!" interrupted Ruthie. "That's as specious as some Christian sects who say that electricity produced by any source other than the sun, the wind or the bounty of the land is immoral. Just because the Bible doesn't mention it doesn't make it not so."

"You might want to be careful there, _Reverend," _warned Lisa. "The Mennonites and the Amish aren't fanatics. For the most part, their understanding of Christianity is actually otherwise in line with ours. In fact, their simple way of living is a _model_ for the rest of the Church. My posse's household included - we have considerable wealth, over a million euros per between all of our salaries, but we don't flaunt it; we only live a working class lifestyle as much as possible, maybe not even that much. Keeping it simple helps keep our priorities straight - and ensures our kids will keep theirs on the level when they get their trust funds."

"But the Amish would never condone something like _this!"_

"Of course not," agreed Lisa. "Matter of fact, someone else on the conference call is a former Amish member who left her commune after her _Rumspringa. _She had to make an urgent plea to the community that shunned her to dump their bonds fast. Thankfully they did. They haven't exactly welcomed her back into the entire fold yet, but she's no longer banned from her family."

"Well, that aside ... what gets me is that while BI is an inherently racist ideology, or _can_ be, it doesn't necessarily mean _all_ its followers are racist - likely, not even most," said the minister. "If I had to venture a guess, if you count those who believe _all_ of the following - the Lost Tribes, House of Windsor equals House of David, Germans are bad, we're still bound by Jewish dietary laws and holidays even if we are saved by the cross, denying the Blessed Trinity, and taking no medicine unless absolutely necessary by which time it's too late anyway ... that extreme variant that rose during the Depression and continues to this day, has about a million members around the world, plus who knows how many non-member adherents. If even one percent of the members are involved in the scam - that's ten thousand. Not exactly easy to manage a financial army like that. You'd think that surely one out of ten thousand would break ranks and blow the whistle at some point."

"Yes Ruthie," said Lisa, "but you're thinking the outlaw biker 'one percent' rule. Cops dealing with organized crime have always said it's more like a _fifth_ of one. Extrapolating ... knock it down to 2000. At that level, it's much easier to keep a tight grip, especially when you ban your members and 'seminary' students from social media and other news websites on pain of dis-fellowship as well as threats of blackmail for speaking out," said Lisa. "Tom's colleagues and he are still trying to find at least a few whistle blowers in that posse - surely one of them _has_ to have a conscience. So far the good guys have had no luck. The bad guys have really closed ranks."

That said, Lisa continued her oral dissertation.

The Holy Land has would continue to do what it could to disband those rogue and doubly illegal settlements on the West Bank fairly quickly. But unbeknown to Israel, a team of hackers would, at the same time, create multiple fake Israel bonds (taking advantage of the country's perfect interest payment record) and sell them on the secondary market knowing that eventually the country would have to pay up. And that country would have only two choices – pay ransom to recall and cancel a bond it had never issued, or to do things it would never have seriously considered. Which is what KCK had called for - the expulsion of all Arab Muslims and Arab Christians from not just the Territories but from Israel itself. That is to say, Arab Israelis who had been law-abiding citizens for decades and actually wanted no part in the conflict would be fair game too.

It was only the most extreme elements of the pro-Israeli lobby in the States that actually called for an outright expulsion of Palestinians. It was even fewer people within _that_ subset that advocated for the abolishing of Israel's democracy. Once the democracy was abolished by coercion, and a member of the House of Windsor was "persuaded" (by force) to become the new David, the new cabal could then use their success to begin the process of ending democracy worldwide, one country at a time, to make way for a worldwide dictatorship, led by Jesus, which to them was the _only_ acceptable form of government.

Of course, the rogues couldn't hoard all the money on the way to paradise, even in offshore accounts - otherwise they'd get caught. So they engaged in vices they openly disdained (houses of ill repute and gambling), registered to vote and voted even though they claimed their religion "forbade" them to, as well as financially backing and endorsing candidates more extreme than those in the so-called "Tea Party", and even sponsoring kiddie beauty pageants and making sure known sex offenders were in the audience and taking notes for possible young future recruits - for cash, and possibly even worse.

And finally, they also used front companies and fake parishioners to make donations to churches which had views totally contrary to their own, to hide some of their ill-gained commissions and to get tax receipts to avoid the tax man. And this is how Ruthie and her cohorts got stuck with $20 million they weren't entitled to, even if their church got it through no fault of its own. And how other churches of all sizes were in a similar predicament and those portions of their treasuries were also under embargo by the feds.

But Thomas, Lisa and their colleagues had finally gotten the evidence - or a paper trail, at least. And they had put in stopgaps to make sure it couldn't happen again, for now. Time wasn't on their side, though, which is why they needed Ruthie to get the evidence to an American embassy in yet another country to be determined, so it could be sent back to the mainland by diplomatic pouch.

Lisa also told Ruthie she had a special and urgent message from Mike and Elena: "Thank you, Ruthie, and _please_ watch yourself! These people will stop at nothing."

After eleven hours, Lisa ended her recitation. Ruthie was grateful, for her wrists were just about to give out. She ran a spell check, then burned the encrypted dossier and summary onto several disks. She then put them into the pouch provided for the purpose and sealed it up.

Ruthie and Lisa ordered a Chinese combo. Lisa stepped into the shower, and came out wearing her nightgown with nothing under it except her natural and unclothed form. Ruthie then did the same. When the meal had been delivered, the women appreciated being able to have something to eat after having gone without all day. The meal was rather quiet until Ruthie realized she wanted to ask Lisa a few questions.

"Lisa," said Ruthie, "how did you ever decide to be a teacher? And in Luxembourg City, of all places?"

"After I was raped," said Lisa, "I felt the only way I could ever get back at the son of a bitch for what he did to me, was to do something I wanted to do, or try to. So when I got into university I took one of the most challenging programs of all – Comparative Literature. The languages I chose were French and German which just happen to be two of the official languages in Luxembourg, although at the time I had never considered moving there."

"Comp Lit - classes about foreign books in translation into English - and more classes learning those two languages and reading even more novels and poetry in those languages, untranslated? Not for the faint of heart, especially when - with respect - you didn't do all that great in Spanish in high school," said Ruthie.

"Well, having dyslexia doesn't help much. But I improved there, too. I took summer school between my junior and senior years to redo Grade 11 Spanish, and I put in everything I had, and I got 100%, and also got 97% in my senior year. I put in all I had again in university, and I graduated _summa cum laude. _I was on track for a career at the State Department when Tom called me to help him and his wife, Brigitte. That was ten years ago, when you and Peter stood down that pedophile, Frank Henderson. Good riddance!"

"Peter and I at the time openly condemned his murder, but we couldn't help but have felt a bit of _Schadenfreude _when he got whacked. However much we forgave him for nearly ruining the lives of our classmates and ours, we have never forgiven him and never will for raping his sisters and his own children. For what he did to his own blood, he certainly deserved it."

"Can't say I blame you for feeling as much."

"That said, my second question", said Ruthie, "and I'm sorry if I'm being indelicate about this -"

"No Ruthie," interrupted Lisa. "I _didn't_ break up the marriage. Tom called me because his and Brigitte's marriage had _already_ been on the rocks for some time. They needed a nanny to make sure the children wouldn't go crazy over the breakup. The kids actually dealt with it like real champs. During my time tutoring them during homework, we managed to have entire conversations in four languages – English, French, German and Spanish – switching back and forth, and with perfect comprehension and continuity of trains of thought.

"That's when I thought, 'I like this. I can be a teacher and do this all day.' I got hired on the spot and have a great job at a high school in the financial district. Low six figures. Okay, 140,000 euros - about 200,000 bucks."

"You certainly deserve it if you can speak, read and write four languages fluently. Good for you, Lisa!"

"Thank you, Ruthie."

"So how did you end up with the ex-wife? That is, after you and your ex-boyfriend - his name, please?"

"Brian."

"Thanks. After you and Brian broke up?"

"Well, Brigitte is a teacher by trade, too," said Lisa. She opened her wallet and retrieved a picture of her partner, a blonde bombshell in a business suit and looking every bit she had equal parts of brain and beauty. "About four years ago, we went on business to a teacher's conference in Strasbourg, France. We talked about our jobs, our kids, everything. We had a rather spacious hotel room. Most nights we took turns using the facilities and each took our time, but on our last night we had a late dinner and it was before midnight and we had to take an early train to Paris before connecting back to our home base. We each had quick showers. When I stepped out and in a house coat, she was wearing her nightgown, and her bosom started peaking through her nightgown at a rapid rate. I also felt my breasts swelling, like they hadn't since I was pregnant. I just wanted to touch her bosom out of curiosity. She then touched mine, and a few seconds later we were necking like there was no tomorrow. It went on from there, an inch at a time – I was munching her carpet within a half hour and she mine ten minutes later. That's when we both knew."

"How did your respective exes react?"

"They were receptive, immediately," said Lisa. "Brian said he didn't know what took so long for me to realize it, but he was glad I had and he'd always have my back even if we weren't together. Tom actually kissed Brigitte _on her lips_ and said he'd stand with her no matter what, even if they weren't together anymore either. All of our children made the same promise – and that made all the difference. Thank God."

"Your mother?"

"Disappointed, but she told me she always had suspected as much, and said if that's how I want to be and if I really want to live with Brigitte for the rest of my life, that's fine with her."

"Happy with Brigitte?"

"Yes. We love each other!" said Lisa happily. "And as it turns out, Luxembourg already recognizes our partnership. The country is also working on going all out - pardon the pun - on legalizing marriage. But that's up in the air in Parliament, and has been for the last couple of years. So we're getting married by the end of the year in Belgium; she's on a six month contract in Brussels so she meets the residency requirement for us to get hitched. And the whole gang will be there. Even all of our parents, including the exes'!"

Lisa proudly showed off her engagement ring - a five carat Canadian diamond with even more miniature diamonds all around the platinum ring. She in turn had gotten Brigitte a South African diamond that was no less spectacular.

_"Really?"_ asked Ruthie. She was stunned at Lisa's announcement as well as the size of the ring. "You're getting married?

"Well, Lisa, I have to say this up front: The _idea_ of a gay or lesbian marriage goes against what I personally believe, my family believes, same as my colleagues, which is that a marriage should be a union of one man and one woman to the exclusion of all others. My Dad, Lucy and I - as well as Pete, Shel and Rod - can theoretically perform such a ceremony, whether as a church affair or a civil transaction since we're licensed to do marriages on behalf of the state. But because it goes against our religious beliefs, we will never preside over a gay marriage, even though there are more than few homosexual couples who attend my church as well as Lucy's. _Never._

_"But,_ we all also think that as long as two - _and only two_ - adults truly love each other and as long as their relationship is a consenting one, what they do is no one's business. They and their kids are families as much as straight couples and their kids. And the love they share is no less in quantity or quality. So while gay marriage goes against my ethics, our ethics, my buds and I - and Dad and Lucy - we all also think that it's a matter of _equal rights_ and for that reason we agree as a matter of equality there should be no issue. So, as a legal principle, we do support the _right_ of gays and lesbians to get married. And so I offer my congratulations. This calls for a beer. A good, expensive, European one! And my treat!"

"Thanks, Ruthie! And hey, as long as you're willing to keep an open mind, I appreciate your support."

"No problem, and I do. Well then, and I have to ask this ... if you're so happy with Brigitte, why in God's name did you try to seduce Shelby?" Ruthie gave every indication she was perplexed by this hanging chad. She also retrieved the bar menu which listed over a hundred different beers then called room service to make her selection - and ordered 2 bottles at the equivalent of $20 each.

Lisa paused until Ruthie hung up the phone.

"Good question. Long story short: As well as having sex with Brian once a month, Brigitte and I are in a semi-open relationship, until she and I tie the knot," replied Lisa. "Twice a year, she and I each have one week to try to have a fling with another partner - female or male. If we're not up to it we can bank the time. I've gone without for two years. So I have four weeks, and this is pretty much my last chance; even my special relationship with Brian will end for the obvious reasons although he'll continue to live with all of us. My meeting with Shelby ten days ago, was three days into week one. I still feel horrible about what happened; that's why I reached out to Rod and told him before Shelby got back to St. Louis."

"It's okay. We all make mistakes. At least you're willing to own up, and that shows you have class!"

"Then let me ask you something, Ruthie," said Lisa. "I'm not going to say this is a hypothetical kind of thing, I just want to hear your thoughts. If, and only if, I tried to make a pass at you – and because you have a very important mission here, I promise you that I am _not_ going to make a pass – but if this wasn't going on, we got reacquainted, and _if_ I did make a pass at you under those circumstances, or if I wanted to, would you accept?"

"ARE YOU FRAPPING CRAZY?" shouted Ruthie at the top of her lungs. Despite Lisa's denials, Ruthie knew exactly what Lisa was proposing right then and there. "You know how much I love Peter, even more than my parents or siblings. You know how much fidelity means to me. And even if Peter and I were in trouble, I'd never even consider sleeping with a woman, any woman! A dude maybe, but not a dudette. I'm flattered … I suppose … but I would never accept, not under any circumstances – not even if you paid me a million euros!"

For a full minute, Lisa let Ruthie's words hang in the air. At the end of the minute, Lisa smiled.

"Wrong, Ruthie," she said. "You would. You know you would."

"What gives you the right to say that?" asked an indignant Ruthie.

"Because of how you answered," replied Lisa. "If it _truly was no_, you would have _said_ 'No' as your very first word in your response. You instead began by telling me you thought the concept was crazy, and rationalized about why it's crazy for you. And yes, it _is_ crazy for _any_ heterosexual woman or man who if she or he is asked if they would have sex with someone of the same sex. I know it was for me, until it happened as it did. You never know when it might happen to you, Ruthie, so don't presume you know what you'd say.

"My mistake last week is I didn't even ask Shelby first. I should have. I kissed Shelby on the lips for five seconds, unsolicited, then I pulled her closer and started a French kiss for another five. She grabbed my wrists and pushed me away, more like _shoved _me back into my chair. And by shove, I mean really hard."

"What did you expect would happen, Lisa?" asked Ruthie. "You know she and Rod are not just Marines, not just spies, not just ministers, they're _commandos!_ She shoved you like that because you challenged her sense of honor. You're lucky she didn't kill you. And I would have thought that you, as a paid informant for the FBI, would have known better."

"I totally forgot she is Special Forces," admitted Lisa, shamefully. "And as soon I was firmly planted back in my seat, the very first word she said, the _very_ first word, was 'No.' I accepted her answer because it was genuine. I realized how much Rod means to her. And it occurred to me that even if I had asked, she still would have said no.

"Your response to me just a moment ago, with respect, was and is far less convincing. Which tells me, Ruthie, you and Peter have underlying issues that you and he may not even realize you have!"

"So what are you saying?" asked Ruthie.

"You have _definitely_ thought about the idea of munching and grinding another woman. It may have been another classmate or a fellow church member. You may have even fantasized about having sex with Lucy or Mary – or both _and at the same time_. But you _have_ thought about doing it with at least one woman, and if you deny it you're lying. To me, as well as to yourself. So look, Ruthie, you're here in Europe for another six days. You know how and where to reach me. If I don't hear from you by next Thursday, I'll know your answer is no, and I'll respect that."

"And let's just say, Lisa, for the sake of argument, I _do_ want to go through with it? Even if it goes against everything I believe?"

"When you make your drop at the embassy in London, and that's the mystery site I'm sure you've wondered about, you'll get instructions where and when to meet your next contact for the next briefing, which I promise _won't_ be nearly as long. She'll in turn give you instructions on where to make the next drop.

"Since Tom and I will get a copy of the CD-ROMs for our vault at home, in case of a worst case scenario, I will also tomorrow morning before you leave give instructions on how to include a personal message in the encrypt – to let me know where you want to meet me and when. When I read it, it will be stripped from the rest of the drop so it'll be like it was never there. But again, it's your choice. No matter what it is, I hope we can still be friends, regardless."

"Any pal of any of my siblings is a pal of mine; always and forever." Ruthie gave Lisa a hug. "So... um, should I sleep on the couch?"

"It's separate beds, pal – nothing's going to happen _here_. You can trust me, just as I trust you."

Ruthie winked at Lisa. Lisa winked back. By that time, the beers were delivered to their suite. They continued their meal with the alcohol, and caught up on the rest of each other's lives.


	7. Left Turn at Albuquerque

Chapter 7

Ruthie managed to have a very nice sleep that night, and the fact Lisa was also sound asleep in the next bed and not snoring helped. So did the fact that Lisa kept her word not to make a move on her while they were in Budapest.

The women got their wakeup call at 5 am. After a full breakfast carefully prepared and served by the Hungarian police to make sure no possibility of poisoning, Lisa and Ruthie packed their bags. Escorted to the service elevator, they wished each other good luck. During the trip down, the women hugged one last time and Lisa carefully slipped the special instructions that Ruthie needed to follow if any message, official or personal, had to be relayed to Lisa.

Ruthie took a flight under an assumed name to De Gaulle Airport. She took the express subway to downtown Paris, and after a brief stop at the Eiffel Tower took a high-speed train to London. All that time she kept her eyes on her handbag which contained the previous intelligence information, and perhaps the fate of the free world's economy.

A little over two hours later she arrived at St Pancras Station and pulled just as the British networks were doing their lunchtime news broadcasts which by tradition were at one in the afternoon. Following the station master's instructions, she entered the Underground, took the Victoria Line to Oxford Circus then the Central Line to Bond Street. While the transfer between the lines was very quick, she did not like having to go up a very long escalator then walking down a long staircase when entering the system, nor going up a staircase, escalator and yet another staircase when leaving – then walking another ten minutes.

At last Ruthie found herself in front of the Embassy of the United States of America to the Court of St. James's – not the Embassy to the United Kingdom. She reminded herself that the Ambassador was accredited to the Sovereign, not the Prime Minister; and that the occupant of 10 Downing Street usually referred to himself or herself in official documents not in the first or even third person, but as HMG, "Her Majesty's Government."

"Good afternoon, Major," Ruthie addressed the Marine at the front gate, a woman in her 30s. She gave the officer a military salute and handed her her passport. "My grandfather used to represent our country, in the same place where you stand now."

"Yes, Reverend Camden, he also was my veteran pen pal during Enduring Freedom while I served in Afghanistan," acknowledged the woman after scanning the passport and discovering this was the high priority guest she had waited for. Another Marine took her post as she escorted Ruthie into the chancellery and right into the office of the Ambassador.

"Reverend Camden," said the Ambassador as the Marine exited the office, "thank you for coming here on such short notice and on such an urgent matter."

"Thank you, Your Excellency," replied Ruthie, attempting to stick to protocol. She took her seat and was awed by how ornate the chamber was and even the chair she was seated in. She could only imagine if the private offices of the Prime Minister were even more so – forget the House of Windsor.

"I know you don't have much time, but can you summarize what Mr and Ms Lumby have to offer?"

"Yes sir," said Ruthie, handing over the diplomatic pouch. She gave a _précis_ of the dossier, including a list of the prime suspects, although she also underscored the Lumby siblings had no idea of exactly who it might be. However, Ruthie wanted to add that she was only the messenger and she had a major critique of the working theory.

"What is that, ma'am?" enquired the Ambassador.

"Well sir," replied Ruthie, "my sister and father and me, all of us, have been against the Kahanists and the – um, I won't refer to the other group by name again – as long as we can remember. And this is before Reverends Connor and Parker had this file fall into their laps. But this is an unholy alliance, and that is being bland. I just can't believe true believers in a discredited ideology would be behind this – unless they were running low on funds and needed a massive treasury to keep things going for an indefinite period. And seriously...why would one be in league with a pack of terrorists? And the saying may be old, but I think it applies here – the enemy of my enemy is my friend, but with friends like these, who needs enemies?"

"This is a multipronged attack on the free world's financial system. I can assure you, they're not the only ones. Another well-organized group, also Arab hating, is doing a run on the derivatives market."

"Excuse me, Your Excellency, I'm not sure I heard right," said Ruthie.

"Oh you heard right, Reverend," replied the Ambassador. "What they've done has happened independently of the target within the sights of the Lumbys and their friends in the bond business. But they have the same end goal. Forcing Armageddon. You were asked to get involved because we've learned that two traders, one from each of the camps had a chance encounter, not far from here in The City. They had a few drinks, one thing led to another and during pillow talk they discovered their common criminal interest. They started spreading the word up their chains of command. Next weekend, when you have returned to the States, the heads of the two are having a summit in Cyprus to finish their plans to capitulate the Middle East into an unprecedented crisis."

"Any idea when they'll launch?"

"Two weeks later, exactly. They will make coördinated transactions at precisely noon Greenwich on Friday the 19th. Everything – bonds, currency, blue chips, penny stocks, precious metals, crude... and it goes on."

"Sir, aren't there supposed to be circuit breakers to stop that kind of thing?" asked Ruthie. "I thought markets suspend trades if the overall index goes down ten percent during a trading day, longer at twenty. They close all together for the day if it gets to thirty percent."

"If there are flips at exactly the same moment, it won't matter. They'll cash in while everyone else is left broke."

"But it's not all going to the terrorists, is it? Where is it going to?"

"Two words, Reverend. 'The Work'. When you meet your next contact in about an hour, she'll explain."

The Ambassador handed another CD-ROM to Ruthie, which she presumed from what Lisa told her would hold the next set of data.

Ruthie thanked the diplomat, and found in the envelope directions to the British Museum. After finding her way to the Museum, she found the library section. Walking up to the front desk of the library, Ruthie asked the clerk: "Do you know the way to Albuquerque?"

"Quite ma'am," said the man. "Third floor, study room R."

Ruthie went up the stair case and was stunned to find she had to make a left turn to get to the room. _Take a left turn at Albuquerque? That's also not a good sign, _she told herself.

The minister walked towards the assigned room. The Bobby on point duty opened the door and let Ruthie in without any identification asked for. Clearly, she had been expected.

"ASHLEY?!"

Lucy's long time rival was working in London as a commodities trader. She had stumbled onto something big and wanted to talk to Ruthie too. But not in quite the manner Ruthie expected.

"Do you know how to sign?" asked Ashley in sign language, giving a sideways glance at the cop to shut the door right away. The officer complied.

"You damn well know I do – my whole family does! We're still friends with Heather, and while she has Cochlear implants and can read lips, we still sign with her out of respect," communicated Ruthie, after hugging Ashley. "But is this really necessary?"

"It is. We're both under guard here but if there's any chance of a bug being slipped through, this is the only way they can't snoop on us. Besides which, Jeremy's and my daughter is deaf."

"Oh, Ashe, I'm sorry!"

"It's not your fault – but thank you."

"Okay," said Ruthie, "Lisa said this wouldn't take as long as my meeting with her yesterday. I'm not even sure I have time for another eleven hours, let alone three."

"I have my summary, already encrypted with the same Enigma randomization as Lisa's and Tom's brief, right here," said Ashley, presenting her with yet another disk. "But I can give you a summary in just fifteen minutes, because while the scam is essentially the same – this time with bets on what _may _happen on the markets – it is with other people's money. And even more unwitting ones."

"Who are the players?" signed Ruthie.

"Televangelists and other right-wing extremists in the States and pretty much the rest of the free world – even ones based here in the EU."

"Why am I not surprised?"

"Well no one should be," replied Ashley. She then spent about ten minutes explaining how it was happening.

When Ashley finished her signed dissertation, Ruthie asked her the obvious question: "These phonies have more money than they can dream of. They play off people's emotions to get their money. They use form letters to generate replies to prayer requests. They fly to ski resorts on their own church's corporate jets and call it official business. Why do they want more? The IRS now is watching all of them like hawks, auditing them annually! People like that give most evangelicals, myself included, a bad name. We don't need any more guilt by association."

"My friend," signed Ashley, "they keep referring to their need to do The Work. For most Christians of all stripes, you and me included, that means spreading the Gospel. These groups however believe The Work means enriching themselves. And as more and more of their followers have finally wizened up and stopping making donations, they've had to become more creative. Some insiders who have had the courage of feeding snippets of information to the press have suffered terrible reprisals. One insider who just happened to be the sister of a famous gospel singer, died on the morning she was supposed to give a deposition to the IRS, and the cause of death was 'accidental poisoning'. Coincidence?"

Ruthie replied by giving the international one finger salute. "I know who you mean, and who her boss was. She was murdered. Everyone knows that."

"Precisely. Seems like the BI crowd is having the same problem. Their free publications are only free because they force their members to double or even triple tithe. Which is extreme to begin with. But their idea of The Work isn't spreading the word, it's building diploma mills and white elephant concert halls behind iron wrought fences, not to mention million dollar mansions on their compounds. And the rest of the time they use their publications not just to expound their already heretical beliefs, but to bash other breakaway churches within the movement. A growing number are calling it out, they're getting disfellowed.

"Two days ago, while you were in flight to Frankfurt, the two people the Ambassador alluded to dropped into the police station where Jeremy, who's now a cop, is posted, and had quite the story to tell. Seems after they made love for the first time, they were so delirious with ecstasy they told each other's secret. They spent the next week exchanging notes which went up the other's chains of command, between periods of hot sex - a lot of it. Knowing they had the same enemy they decided they wanted to fight together to slay the enemy, so they went to Scotland and pulled a 'Gretna Green.'"

"They eloped?" Ruthie asked. "For what purpose ... oh man! When Christ would be forced to return, they would be among those who managed the world on God's behalf because they helped fell the proverbial Babylon."

"Yeah. And this is no marriage of convenience, I assure you. Six months later, they are as genuinely in love as when Matt and Sarah got hitched. And they are now pregnant. But a weird thing happened. Just before leaving Scotland, they got WWJD and SBTC tattoos on their thighs as an everlasting reminder it's God who created sex and who brought them together. They consummated their marriage when they got back to London but just before they climaxed they both realized what they were doing at their offices was wrong. And they had set the fuse for something potentially horrifying by having talked to their minders beforehand about the other side's fraud.

"They said they couldn't abide this going on any more in either camp. And they quietly renounced their respective denominations and returned to their shared birth church - Methodism. They also decided to sing a tune. Big time. They spent the next six months drawing up an even more massive file than Lisa and Tom did - about 300,000 pages. And that's what I have here on this disk. The Crown Prosecutor for Greater London called Jeremy and me this morning and said she can't tolerate this criminality even if the disclosure was voluntary and apparently complete. So there is no immunity. They're going to have to do some jail time - about six months, less with good behavior, in exchange for forfeiting about half of their ill-gotten gains. Then the Home Office - this country's department of immigration, justice and national security - will put them into a witness protection program. And the child they're expecting, they won't lose him or her - in fact when they're due for parole, they'll actually get it on humanitarian grounds and after labour is induced they'll all be rushed into the underground until a trial happens about two years from now."

"The Ambassador didn't tell me any of that," said Ruthie.

"That's because they're setting a trap for their leaderships; the majordomos still don't know their minions converted back. And we need you to make the drop on the whistleblowers' behalf, a bogus one actually, to a park a few blocks from the Royal Palace in Brussels. You will then backtrack and make another one in the main park in Charleroi. The exact point is in the envelope there. The Brussels drop is the fake one, the disks in the envelope the Ambassador gave you are nothing but hard-core pornography – hopefully the one making the pickup will show up. When he or she is arrested, we think the authorities there can wrest something out of him or her too."

"Well, Ashe, I'm glad you're helping out. Jeremy too. I can't believe just how up to the ears all of us are in."

"It may be worse before it gets better, and I know you've heard this already, but please watch yourself! Thank you. And give our regards to Luce and Kevin."

"I will."

Ruthie checked into her hotel after going to a steakhouse. She was impressed by the quality of the newscasts and the insight of the reality shows in Britain which had far better production values and more coherent "confessions" from their participants than the copycats Stateside. Before going to bed, she pulled out a locally procured phone card. She called up Peter at home. No answer. She tried his cell phone. Voice mail full. She then tried sending a text message. A reply was almost usually instant, but this time none was coming. She then tried Shelby.

"Peter left just about the time you arrived in Frankfurt," said Shelby. "He dropped off your children for the weekend then just took off. No explanation, just he had some business to take care of. And he made clear he didn't want to be reached except for when an extreme emergency came up."

"Did he say where he was going?"

"Enid, Oklahoma. A male friend of his from high school is meeting with him after several years of back and forth instant messages. They're going hunting in the back country. Not surprising, though - we all have licenses and usually win in the tag lotteries, no matter which state."

"When will he be back?" asked Ruthie.

"Thursday...same day you're due back, for all our kids' birthdays, on Friday," Shelby replied.

"Okay...fine. If he calls, tell him I said I love him."

"Will do, Ruthie. Come home safe."

"Knock on wood."

When Ruthie hung up, she thought it was a bit weird he would leave town just when she was on the most dangerous trip she might ever have to make. She furrowed her eyebrow, then opened up her laptop and logged onto the hotel's wi-fi. Going on one of the social media sites she and Peter frequented, she looked up any recent friends he may have made in the last three months (the friend Shelby alluded to had moved there years ago). No new contacts of Peter's were in Enid, but a friend of the friend of Peter's, a couple of years older than Lucy, indeed did live there also and had been added to the intermediary's list just four weeks earlier.

The woman had ruby-red hair, a dozen or more shades darker than Lisa's auburn, which flowed down to the top of her thighs. She had emerald-green eyes. Her face had freckles that would have matched Lisa's. And she was naturally endowed and she dressed so she showed it but not flaunted it. Her overall appearance was not an A-list bombshell, nor a female porn star (with or without implants), but she was not in the ugly duckling club either. She certainly was attractive - at least as much as the lead and secondary alto and soprano soloists at the mega church Ruthie co-managed.

The minister recognized the face as well as the name. Felicity Foster Hunter. She was a well-known former Catholic turned mostly left-wing evangelical lay preacher (although she still angrily opposed abortion and 'right to die' initiatives) and contemporary gospel singer who railed against televangelists as well as her former Church almost weekly on YouTube, interspersed with at least two or three new and original Contemporary Christian or Southern Gospel songs written and performed by her; and got views into the hundreds of thousands within hours of a new video post which would grow into the millions by the end of the week and the next week's broadcast, and thousands of comments from other evangelicals on both political sides fed up of the usual spokesgroups who claimed to represent them. Even Catholics, also in the thousands, expressed their support for her ministry feeling their home church had long abandoned them and that she was their moral voice as well. Needless to say, she had several albums having gone platinum in short order, almost exclusively from iTunes sales, and e-book sales with her views on the state of the Church and what she believed were also brisk.

Just three weeks before this night, one of the most notorious Christian television network owners in America delivered a blistering on-screen one hour long editorial against Felicity, not only calling her a heretic but every other demeaning word against a woman the FCC would allow. While he did not mention Felicity by name one single time, when he concluded by saying, "I hope God kills you before someone else does," she knew he meant her and had gone incommunicado. No new broadcasts. No new songs for sale on iTunes. No new daily reflections on her blog. Speculation was running rampant on the Web. What happened?

Ruthie put two and two together. Peter, a fan of Felicity's music, had noticed the bad man was literally smirking during his daily appearances after several days of silence from the woman. Peter was frightened, as were Ruthie, Rod and Shelby, that the broadcaster had made the good woman "disappear" Pinochet style. But without the other three knowing, Peter used the back channel to privately contact Felicity to say he wanted to make sure she was okay and that he wanted to help her fight back, even if from a distance. The offer was accepted within an hour.

After a series of positive chat sessions during the next ten days and after his having cheered her up, Felicity finally said she was in a safe room at her backsplit in Enid and she wanted to let the world know from that room that she was perfectly fine and she was immediately declaring war against the executive who threatened her, as well as every other Christian broadcaster who spread unorthodox principles on air; but she needed an alternate media channel to get that message out just in case her YouTube channel had been hacked. Peter immediately offered his services there too. With nearly twenty thousand dollars worth of top end equipment loaded up in his van - the one without a call sign - he drove westward to Enid to help her prepare her rebuttal broadcast on Ruthie and Peter's new radio station (he had gotten his license a couple of days after Ruthie earned hers).

Ruthie knew what probably happened next although not the specifics. She would find those details later, but Felicity was so relieved someone had the courage to reach out to her that, after a dress rehearsal, she left the safe room with Peter and they took a stroll through the adjacent woods. They soon leaned on each other after talking about their respective ministries, and not long after that they made love in the depths of the forest. They were actually shocked afterwards at what they had done, especially since Felicity was nine years older than Peter and they had used no protection whatsoever. But after Peter confided in her what Ruthie was up to, Felicity promised she'd do everything she could to help get Ruthie to the finish line - since Felicity had been tracking her rivals for years and had even more dirt on them, of the personal kind, ready to spring.

Ruthie wasn't going to cry when she realized that Peter and Felicity had been having an online affair (of sorts) which was finally consummated (for real) just that day. True, it hurt Ruthie that Peter betrayed her and her trust. Sure, it was bound to have happened with any woman sooner than later. In fact, Ruthie had actually contemplated having an affair with one of the male deacons. But for Peter to do it with a fellow and highly regarded evangelist not just hurt Ruthie, it shook her beliefs to the core. Worse, the coupling set all three up for even more blackmail than what they were already anticipating. She respected Felicity Hunter's doctrinal soundness as well as her courage, too; but all Ruthie would have done is write a check, a large one, as a retainer to fund the woman's libel suit against the "Christian" network's owner and his wife (a showpiece for plastic surgery gone plain insane) who had ghostwritten the editorial.

_Well, Peter, we'll talk about this when we both get home. I may give you a pass, given Felicity's dire straits, but that doesn't mean you're the only one who can have fun._

Ruthie pulled out the disk copy that was meant for Lisa. Loading it in, and following the instructions provided, Ruthie inserted her own message.

The next day, Ruthie took the train from London to Brussels. She made her fake drop, and a couple of hours later, drove a rental car to Charleroi to make the real drop with her personal screed. As she left the park, she looked at the sign at the front entrance and pointed the upright arrow held by a thumb tack left.

An hour and a half later, Lisa went to the park, discovered Ruthie had successfully made her drop, and grabbed the envelope from under a footbridge.

There were several copies of disks intended for different agencies. There were two more. One was for Thomas and the family vault. The other, labelled green, was for Lisa.

Lisa sat on a park bench, opened her laptop, and inserted Ashley's disk. Per Lisa's instructions Ruthie had encrypted three messages in different parts of the official dossier and set on a read and destroy mode.

The first message: _You were right, Lisa. Peter and I haven't made passionate love in nearly a year. We haven't had straight up, tab a into slot b sex in four months. He hasn't licked my inline skates in three months. The last time he let me give him a blow job was two months ago. I don't know what's happening now, but I do know this – during the thing with Henderson, I actually did imagine having sex with Lucy. Not that I ever would have done that or have even tried. During my senior year in high school, I semi-cheated on Peter and Frenched a girl to see if I liked it. I didn't then, but I know I would now. It doesn't mean I'm a lesbian, or bisexual, or even bi-curious. I just want to try it. So, you're about to find out where I'll be next so I can do just that._

"Read you like a book, sister," smirked Lisa.

The second message said, _We need to give everyone the slip. That includes all of our guards. I realize this is a massive risk. But the two of us need to be alone, and in a place where both of us can reawaken our souls. So I've booked a hotel room in Stockholm. When we get there, we can stroll around the city for a few hours so we can get our bearings, especially since the sun's out much longer up there this time of year - I think two hours longer each side than it would be in Saint Louis; but when we check in we'll be each other's, without reservation, for that night and the next three days. I'll let you know which hotel, and how we get to Stockholm, when I meet you tomorrow at noon at the rendezvous point in the last message._

"Peter's cheating on you, isn't he?" said Lisa. "That's as good a reason as any. Although I believe you would want to do the 69 with me even if he wasn't. Brigitte is doing a female co-worker of Tom's this week. If they hadn't gone to Miami and instead stayed in this part of the world, it would have been a real girl's night out - all four of us making love, in the same room, to all of each other!"

It took nearly five minutes for the encrypter to find Ruthie's third message. Which had the meeting place.

_Prinsengracht 263, Amsterdam._

"The Anne Frank House?!" gasped Lisa.

Then she immediately understood the logic.


	8. Riding Through the Glen

Chapter 8

In Enid, the sequence of events that had led to the affair had started simply enough. What had led to the climax was anything but simple.

Peter had driven nearly eight hours west from Saint Louis to Enid. In the cargo area - created after the second to fourth rows of seats were folded down - was quite possibly the one key to Felicity Foster Hunter's future. A voice to the outside world.

Although Peter and Ruthie tended to be frugal in their personal living, Rod and Shelby had told them that while amateur radio was and is a fine hobby, it would be pointless unless they were quite serious about it. A fairly simple station setup could be had for nearly two thousand dollars, but taking on the road as Peter and Ruthie were planning to for their road trips required something more robust – and just any equipment would not do, not even what could be had at a radio specialty store. So the couple went through several radio club catalogs and finally ordered, directly from Europe, top grade military style gear at ten times the normal entry price. The instruments were still in their boxes, unopened.

Fifty miles from his destination, Peter made a deliberate turn down a side road. Felicity and Peter's common friend had given special directions, saying it was necessary to make sure no one was following Peter. Peter actually didn't mind even if the directions confused the on board GPS system so much that when it said 'Turn back!' one too many times, he just said 'Eff off!' and switched the on screen display and audio to that of a satellite radio channel.

Peter finally pulled up to Felicity's place. Since everyone in the neighborhood had seemed to go to a stock car race over the state line in Kansas for the weekend, no one was in sight. Still, just to be sure that no one would know he was there, he sent a text message to Felicity to open up her garage door. This she did by remote control, and after he pulled into the garage the door closed again.

For a full minute, Peter was in the darkness. _Uh-oh, _he thought. Had this been a trap?

Then there was a knock on the side door. Peter rolled down the window.

"Peter, thank God you're here!" Felicity opened the door, took Peter's hand to help him step out, and gave him a huge hug. She was crying as she embraced him.

"Felicity," Peter said softly, "Shhhh. It's okay. I had to be here. I couldn't stand that awful excuse for a broadcaster bullying you!" After Felicity calmed down slightly, he added, "I have a lot of stuff here, and I know it's heavy but I need a second set of hands here."

Peter opened the sliding door. Inside were several large storage boxes, the kind used to carry musical instruments and audio gear on concert tours.

"Nothing that I'm not familiar with," smiled Felicity.

After everything had been brought into the safe room, Peter asked Felicity how she was holding up.

"I am not sure how much longer I _can_ hold up," said Felicity. "Years ago I had to live on nothing but meal replacement drinks for a weekend, and now I have had to do so the same but for two and a half weeks. Take a look at me – I'm a _mess._ And all of my good wardrobes need a wash, but I've run out of detergent too."

"Well, are any of the rest okay?" asked Peter.

"Not anything I'd rather be seen in on video – but what choice am I going to have?"

"We'll do this as a team. Now, what have you said that ticked off the man so much?"

Felicity explained that after graduating in physics from a state university, she then took an unexpected detour. Hired by an online astronomy think-tank, she became intrigued by some books a co-worker brought to work with her. The books were written by a counter-cult group which railed against everything from New Age prophets to self-help gurus. But the greatest heap of scorn fell upon a number of televangelists. Not the vast majority, most of whom were actually accountable to their followers - but about fifty or so who showboated and had the greatest prominence and refused to be audited by any accountant but God, whatever that meant.

Felicity looked up the publisher of the book which in turn was connected to a self-described "parachurch" group, and after a series of inquiries was she hired as a part-time intern. It became a full-time job. She had only been "born again" a year earlier, although she always considered herself a Christian, but with this job she finally began to see some purpose in her life.

A few months later, Felicity had lightning strike for her when the host of the nationally broadcast show run by the group fell so ill that they needed a substitute. The usual substitute hosts were on business, and no one at the office wanted to volunteer. So they drew straws and Felicity lost. She was a nervous wreck and barely managed to walk into the studio, just two minutes before going live.

Finally when she went on air, Felicity read a short statement from the regular host regretting his absence, then she read the daily review of what were the latest stupid statements from the Health and Wealth crowd. Then it was on to listener's questions. Although she answered the questions coherently and with thoughtfulness - and even adding a bit of wit that her boss lacked - she was so soft-spoken in her responses that the executive producer had to turn the microphone all the way up and it was still only just audible.

Finally, one listener who was asking a question about some contradictions within Proverbs said, "Look, Ms Hunter -"

"It's Felicity, please," said Felicity.

"Felicity – either speak up, shut up, or sing!"

Felicity had never been spoken to her like that, ever. Not even by her late parents. She wanted to grab the microphone to fire back, but the _sing _struck a raw nerve. Out of nowhere, she began singing "Great Is Thy Faithfulness." She was singing it loud, she was singing it pure. And she was singing in a voice so uncommon that the listening audience just stopped. Within two minutes, so many people were calling in that the phone system melted down.

The next six weeks saw Felicity's credentials skyrocket. She felt an incredible swagger in doing the daily rundown and when she next answered questions she did so with authority – even more so than her absent boss. She even made several blue collar style jokes every day about her targets, which endeared her more to the public. But it was her music they wanted to hear. And when she began introducing her own original music which she had written at various times of her life but kept hidden until now, the admiration got even greater. By the end of the six weeks, the somewhat moderately popular program was now the number one religious talk show, and the fourth most popular radio show of any format - period - in America. The live video stream was also picked up by a handful of Christian television networks less belligerent than the one presently tormenting her - and their collective ratings actually managed to make the "Cult Question Hour" displace the other's broadcast, "Grace Is Yours Tonight," in the same time slot, to become the number one show in religious television broadcasting. For the first time in twenty years, the other show was second banana to someone, anyone, in Christian broadcasting.

So, the seed of enmity was sown right there and then.

Felicity's boss, on his return, was so grateful he promoted her to full-time co-host. She accepted and their on-air partnership was masterful, but after a year she felt she had so overshadowed the program that she felt it had to be more about Bible facts again and not her persona. So she decided to go out on her own and start her own show, online. She took out personal articles of incorporation (as Felicity Foster Hunter, Inc.) so that she would keep full rights to her published and unpublished songs as well as her online articles and e-books. Using her former employer's database, which she retained access to, she began doing original research of her own and began to get more and more disturbed at what she was seeing on after hours and Sunday morning television.

It was the one network, however, the one she inadvertently crossed years before, that still made her particularly angry. Started in the 1970s, the cable outlet was on the verge of bankruptcy just a few years later because few if any cable companies would carry it even if they were paid to do so. But it then discovered a legal loophole – that cable companies must carry all locally available over the air channels, even low powered stations, regardless of content. So they would park a satellite dish in a major city, get a low power transmitter with a range of only a few miles to the cable company's offices, and have the transmitter show only the satellite feed. The must carry rule forced the cable companies to make the signal available to their much larger local footprints, which often extended to a hundred mile circle or even more rather than the ten miles or less of a repeater. By doing this, the network had clearance in 97% of markets in the States within ten years. And the money flowed - big time, mostly from people who "supported Israel" but didn't even know where it was. From saps who didn't know who was right in the Middle East. And of course, from those who didn't have Bibles or never bothered to read them, and could therefore be manipulated.

Through her contacts both at her former employer as well as throughout the blogosphere, Felicity found many examples of financial improprieties not just from the network but also from nearly all the ministries it broadcast. Their lavish lifestyles were bad enough, and Felicity was angered so many of their followers saw nothing wrong with it, that they believed that God had 'blessed' the preachers for spreading the word and by 'sowing a seed' they could get that a cut of that blessing as well. Of course, the contributors got poorer, the broadcasters got richer and the vicious circle kept going.

This was old hat.

But the broadcast owner himself took the cake. Renovating his 6000 foot mansion every two years (and the house, which was declared a "parsonage" since the network claimed it was a church, was exempt from property taxes - and therefore, any renovations fully tax deductible). Flying his entourage on four corporate jets, in tandem. Owning a satellite – that is, owning it outright and not just leasing transponders from someone else. Tons of plastic surgery for himself, his wife, and their adult children and in-laws. There were also whispers, never proven, about the couple's extracurricular activities. Jointly and severally. And the other odious parts of the Health and Wealth gospel needed no more criticism than she had already heaped as had others before her.

It was three aspects of the broadcaster's beliefs, though, that drove Felicity over the edge. It had most of her fellow televangelists who, like her, actually practiced what they preached (or tried to at least), mad too and gave all of them a bad name. But one week before the death threat, Felicity finally had enough and she let it rip.

First, earlier on the same day, the man had on his show actually brought on an astrologer who co-related the zodiac and the Twelve Houses to the Bible and many references to the twelve stars. After this audacious statement, the preacher then said this was proof that the zodiac was _condoned_ by God. However, the European Union and the Catholic Church were damned because they used a different constellation of twelve stars – the crown of the Virgin Mary – which actually belonged to Satan.

Felicity was furious at that. She told her listeners that it was a stupid statement at first glance - because why would the mother of the Savior suddenly decide one day to defect and team up with His enemy? Second, any Christian with a brain would know that astrology had nothing to do with the Bible, that the Scriptures _condemned_ oracles. Third, she was an _astronomer_ by training, _not_ an astrologer. She _studied_ stars and she praised God _for_ them, but she did _not_ glean meaning _from_ them. It was up to humans to discern the signs of the times and to take responsibility for the future, but both of those could not and never could be found in the stars. Besides which, the reason the EU had chosen a twelve star flag had nothing to do with Catholicism being the plurality if not majority religion in the trading bloc, nor because the Vatican was the invisible hand behind Brussels.

"Really, guys," scoffed Felicity. "Does every conspiracy theory have to start with the Holy See? No! The number twelve has had important meaning in Europe and the Middle East since the Creation. Twelve means completeness, perfection."

She reeled just some of them off:

Twelve labors of Hercules.

Twelve acts of mercy.

Twelve Houses of Israel.

Twelve Apostles.

Twelve current European monarchies (well, ten real blue bloods in democracies, plus the Vatican which was an elective monarchy, and democratic Andorra which had the President of France and the Bishop of Urgell, Spain, as honorary 'co-princes').

Twelve months of the year.

Twelve gods on Mount Olympus.

Twelve hours each half of the day.

Twelve semitones in a music scale.

Twelve days of Christmas.

Twelve Caesars.

Twelve tables of Roman law.

Twelve hues in the color wheel.

And yes, the twelve signs of the zodiac and the twelve celestial houses.

As far as the Catholic Church?

"I don't like the Church, or what it's become especially because of the sex scandals, which is why I left it," Felicity said. "Plus, I also didn't like the fact so many of my fellow penitents actually worshiped the Virgin rather than venerate her as that Church teaches they ought to. But still, all the Popes have proclaimed the Christ. One who allies himself with Christ can never be the Antichrist. _Never._ The Church is in terrible need of reform, but when I say my brothers and sisters in Christ, that includes those who are Catholic."

Second, she railed against "faith healings" but at a new level than ever before. In her research in the last year, she said, she had gone through over ten thousand so called cures that the various ministries buying airtime on the network had proclaimed had happened during those twelve months. Including someone in South America, allegedly raised from the dead. Only _fourteen_ in the huge sample were plausible - and she made a point of calling them spontaneous remissions, and not miracles. Why?

"Miracles, by definition, are rare. If miracles were commonplace, they'd stop being miracles!" laughed Felicity.

Many of the rest of the so-called "cures" dealt with the ever omnipresent "fibromyalgia." Felicity told her listeners, for the very first time, she herself had the disease, more specifically a mutation of NF1 that she inherited from her late mother. The mutation was one that was not very debilitating to her, although it did affect her learning abilties early in life and did cause her a fair amount of back pain her whole life. But she dealt with it with happy magnanimity, and with pain killers and other approved treatments, not wishful thinking. In fact, she thanked God everyday for her faults, those of her own hand and those which she had no choice in, and that they helped her focus the rest of her skills on serving her fellow humans. She didn't need to be cured, she didn't _want_ to be cured right away although she hoped she would go into remission someday, and her doctors told her it couldn't be cured by medical means anyway - not yet. She was stuck with it, and there was a 50-50 chance each of her children, when they came along, would be stuck with it as well. But that was life. Her duty as a mother, when she did become one, would be to make sure her children's minds were Christ centered as hers was, whatever they had physically.

But ... Cancer? Lupus? Parkinson's? Alzheimer's? Even AIDS, if the preacher had the temerity to try?

"They that be whole need not a physician, but they that are sick," said Felicity. "Matthew 9:12. I put my faith in Jesus, but my medical trust in my _doctors_. Jesus is indeed the Great Physician, but He needs the hands of others to do the healing. Every time I go into surgery, even when I'm getting a root canal from a dentist, I ask God that the one in whom I've put my trust will use his or her skill to heal me, or at least get me to a state where I can get up again.

"Oh, and another thing, brother – at healing services, why don't you or your buddies ever try to make a paralyzed person walk instead of corralling him and the rest of the wheelchair posse into the orchestra pit and ignoring them? To try to cure a leper of his or her Hansen's disease - which, by the way, can actually be cured by _antibiotics_ if it's found early enough? To make someone in the crowd, picked at random, actually levitate? And what's this crap about slaying your followers in the Spirit? You're just an unlicensed hypnotist using the power of suggestion. And holy laughter - the alleged 'Toronto Blessing'? The laugh's going to be on you real soon, pal! I have stuff on you, tons of it ... and I can back it up.

"Sidebar: You claim to have best-selling books. But you buy out your own press run, then sell them to the management company, who in turn sells them at crusades. Triple counting. Which violates publishing standards, and accounting standards. And you deduct the outbound sales, three times. Then claim the sales inbound. And according to my sources - the profits are funnelled through a tax haven. That in itself automatically means an IRS audit and don't think I or one of my friends hasn't filed an anonymous tip at their snitch line! And why are you breaking the law by not filing a hard copy of your books at the Library of Congress so may then be properly cataloged at research libraries around the world - including divinity schools? If you did, at least you'd get a unique catalog number for each book – you can't do that with the Dewey Decimal System!"

With that knowledge and wit, Felicity was on a roll. But that was the set up for the third point – and this was got her and other apologetics really furious – Jesus Died Spiritually.

It was bad enough that some now dead preachers had plagiarized this 1930s notion from E.W. Kenyon and claimed it as their own. But the concept itself was revolting to Felicity, even way back from her days as a devout Catholic. JDS declared that when Jesus died, His spirit died as well. He rose from the dead three days later with a new spirit after defeating Satan. Some of the current exponents, when told how illogical that was, would always shoot back with the statement that faith should _not_ be guided by reason or common sense.

"Really, brother?" screamed Felicity. "I guess you skipped Isaiah 1:18 in Sunday School, or seminary, or the diploma mill you went to – 'Come now, let us reason with the LORD.' So let's actually use _reason_ here to explain the true principles of the Christian _faith_. A soul is designed to be immortal. That's what I was taught. If a soul dies, it c_annot_ be resurrected, ever! Any of your viewers out there who have read the Harry Potter books would know that – and for what it's worth it's pretty clear there that, contrary to what you say about the books, Harry and Hermione were Christians, and possibly Ron too. Just three Christians who happened to have incredibly special, God given powers. Which they used, not abused.

"But on this main point, consider: If Jesus died spiritually, the body that was resurrected may have been Jesus' but the soul sure wasn't Jesus' – it was a disciple of Satan's. And if that's the case, then the entire Church, which started with just 120 men and women who then spread the message of the Resurrection and kept multiplying over the centuries until it became the largest force on the planet ever, would have been built on a lie.

"The facts are these. Jesus didn't die spiritually when He was executed. He didn't descend to _Hell_. Rather than dying spritually, His soul instead descended to the _dead_. It may be a fine line but there's a big difference. Satan thought he won because Jesus died. But when Jesus rose from the dead His Spirit was still His own and the _next_ phase of the war between Heaven and Hell had begun. Any idiot could figure that one out. And if Satan had been defeated, he'd be dead and evil would have ended too. He just got a time out, but he's still here. He _will_ be defeated at the latter day, once and for all, but at a time of the Father's choosing; not even Jesus Himself knows the day - Matthew 24:36.

"God doesn't play dice," Felicity concluded. "God doesn't lie. God is truth. Just for once, sir, look at yourself in the mirror. For five minutes. If you glance away even once, then you know what you need to do. I am not perfect. Not by any means, which is why I asked Jesus to save me in His Precious Blood so many years ago and He did. I still sin, but I will admit it. You are unable to do so. As your sister in Christ, and I do see you as a brother in Christ no matter how wrong you are, I ask you to see the error in your ways, and to amend your life – and your family also. And I ask you to make the ultimate sacrifice, career wise and financially - sell everything you have and give it to the poor, and expect your 'hundred fold blessing', just as you ask for your contributors to expect theirs when you demand their tithes from the so-called 'Seed Faith'!"

Peter remembered the broadcast well. But when she played it back for him on her YouTube channel, he became even angrier.

"Felicity, every word you spoke there was the truth. I said I'll help you, and I will. I'll not only help you with this broadcast, I'll help you _bury_ him, his family and their ministry!" he said matter of fact. "Anyway, I kind of figured you need food so I brought a couple of hampers from the church's food bank – non-perishables - as well as frozen butter, ground beef and the like. The fresh food is in the plug-in cooler still in the van so it hasn't spoiled. Oh, I also brought you some wardrobes if you need a few extra for if you need to go on the run for a bit. If I remember the Christian gossip websites correctly – you're 38C, 25½, 35½. And shoe size, 10¾E."

"Yes, that's right!" said Felicity, her expression having changed from weariness and fear, to something close to absolute joy and relief. She opened the case marked "Stuff for Fluff" - FluffyHunter78 was her instant messaging handle. She not only found the clothes (which were rush ordered by Peter and tailor-made, and fit her perfectly, and just the styles and colors of wardrobes she liked), she also founded the promised food, and even several premium brand bras with her cup size with matching panties and in colors which in turn matched the wardrobes. As did the shoes and stockings he bought, and the makeup and nail polishes. Clearly, he was worried the broadcaster would use his personal Mafia to make her, or both of them, run for it, and Peter had all the bases covered. This was a man clearly in control, and Felicity was glad she had trusted him, for he was already following through, many times over.

Over the next two days, the two new friends went over how to prepare the broadcast, what it would contain, and when it would go on the air. Peter insisted on sleeping on the couch, but she offered him one of her spare bedrooms which he accepted.

On day three, while Ruthie was in London, Felicity was guided through her dress rehearsal, and this time she was holding nothing back. She was going to give the preacher and his wife a final warning – to either say they were sorry, or she would sue for everything they had. Which was in the hundreds of millions, according to a forensic accountant who had some ledgers leaked to her. She promised God she would donate all of any money she might win, plus legal costs, to the Salvation Army - a church the broadcaster hated because they actually believed in helping people directly rather than through promoting false hopes.

After the end of the rehearsal, Felicity said, "Peter, I could really use some fresh air and I haven't had a picnic lunch in ages. Would you like to come with?"

"Sure," said Peter.

They packed a basket and blanket found their way to a forest glen about a mile away. Under a canopy of leaves slowly shading from green to autumnal colors, they had a full course meal and talked for nearly two hours about each of their ministries and how much God meant to each of them.

As Peter talked about his and Ruthie's children, Felicity started to cry again, the tenth time since Peter showed up. Everything she worked for, her entire career, maybe her life, depended on this one vodcast. Peter took Felicity's hand and helped her stand up as he did so himself. He then offered his shoulder and she leaned against him sideways. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder. She in turn put her free hand on his waist. Whether she meant to or not, her hand slipped and fell on his crotch.

She immediately pulled it back as soon as she realized the soft package had tightened, and begun to spring hard through his jeans. Straight and forward. The bulge was apparent even to him.

"No Felicity, it's okay," said Peter. "I know you need a guy now."

"What did you say?" asked Felicity.

"I know you need a guy now. You can grab my crotch for a minute, then you can watch me pleasure myself. While I watch you pleasure yourself. We're well inside the trees and no one can see us. Besides, I could use the relief anyway. As I am sure you could."

"Well, if that's all you're offering, that may be too bad," said Felicity. "Because I want to give you _all_ I have to offer – and I mean, all, except my soul, which belongs to Jesus."

"Felicity..." Peter gulped. "Are you trying to seduce me?"

"I am. And not just down low but all the way, the home run. I know you just came out to help a friend in need. But you have more than earned the right to make love to me! And I want you, now! And that load, and I hope there's a lot of it, inside of me!"

"But, what about Ruthie ..."

"Peter, when did you two last have intercourse?" Felicity asked this question deliberately. She knew Peter would not have gone to all this trouble if he was not having problems with Ruthie. He would have found someone else to help the woman. And after a pause of about ten seconds, Peter realized this too - although it had been subconscious until now.

"Four months ago."

"How often do you usually have it?" asked Felicity.

"Two, three times a week – we were doing that for seven years, except for the six months after Ruthie gave birth to the twins." Peter couldn't believe he had offered that much.

"Why did you stop?"

Peter paused. "An argument – about the household's finances. We were both partly right and wrong – but we never apologized. And, well ... um ... I think I'm entitled to at least one affair during my life. I'm pretty sure Ruthie is going to have sex with her contact as well – a woman. If she hasn't already. A bit of payback, a bit of fun – but I'm game."

Felicity smiled. "How about here, now, in the forest?"

It took one second for the man to lunge at the woman and kiss her with his tongue stuck all the way back in her mouth while he grabbed her thighs, her waist, her derriere. Felicity jumped up into Peter's arms and wrapped her legs around his waist.

They wanted to unbutton each other's clothes off one article a a time. But they ripped each other's duds off so fast that not only were they torn into shreds, but as they were doing so, they literally fell onto the picnic blanket sideways and sent the basket flying thirty feet in the opposite direction. Peter was on his right side while Felicity was on her left, and each took off from the other the rest of the clothes. Peter then fiercely grabbed Felicity's breasts and sucked on them far harder than he ever did with Ruthie. For her part Felicity was grabbing his rear end, pulling his hair, and fondling his middle leg.

Then followed fifteen minutes of each giving the other oral pleasure simultaneously.

Finally, with blood rushing through both their bodies like neither ever had experienced before, Peter thrust himself into Felicity. She screamed with absolute joy – he had changed angle inside of her exactly where her G-spot was. No man had ever been able to do that with her, and Peter had done so the first time. Peter, in turn, was delighted at how slippery Felicity was, especially for an older woman. There was no need to stop. In fact, their coupling would last two hours and thirteen minutes and they climaxed so many times they lost count.

They finally fell into each other's arms, kissing each other over and over.

For Peter's part, this was an absolute awakening. All his life he had been with only one woman, Ruthie, for a total of twelve or thirteen years, ten of them as lovers. But it was like he and his wife had run out of ways to be creative, no matter how many sex advice books they read, radio shows they listened to, or websites they visited. Felicity on the other hand had given herself over one hundred percent. This was pure lovemaking.

Felicity had not been a virgin since her junior year at parochial school. She had known several men. And her couplings with each of them were indeed about making love and not just having sex. But all the other men held back. Peter had not. He treated her like his unconditional, absolute and sole equal. If he had considered her like this, then God had finally answered an unanswered prayer of hers.

But this compromising situation had been totally unexpected for both. And they quickly discovered, totally _unplanned_. Felicity suddenly realized that she never took The Pill - or at least hadn't since her last break-up five years prior - because she never had a reason to. Peter didn't carry his pack of condoms that he and Ruthie were using until they were ready for another child, because he had honestly thought he would only be in Enid on official business and nothing more. And, to their shared horror, it was Felicity's fertile period.

The illicit lovers quickly put their clothes back on, or what was left of them, grabbed the picnic set and ran as fast as they could back into her house before anyone saw them. They then ran towards the laundry room, stripped and threw their shredded clothes and undergarments into the trash. They then ran upstairs and took a shower together although they only bathed themselves and each other (carefully), not attempting to be further intimate in the slightest but only to make themselves physically clean again if not morally. Finally they grabbed their housecoats and walked back down to the living room – Felicity saw no reason any longer to hide in the safe room.

"Peter, what have we DONE?!" she moaned. "This coming broadcast is supposed to be my comeback – my chance to give the rebuttal of rebuttals. But all that hinged on practicing what I preach. Now I'm screwed – pardon the pun – and my career is over! Preaching, singing, writing, the whole enchilada."

"Felicity," said Peter, "I have followed you on YouTube from your first broadcast. You've _never_ said anything about premarital sex."

"In the evangelical movement, that is a _sine qua non, _something that is non-negotiable. At least those of us who are on the air. You don't have to say it, it is understood. And if we just got knocked up, then I am even worse off."

"Most evangelicals _do_ have premarital sex, though. Even A-listers like you. People will get past that."

"But a _pregnancy?_ If I am pregnant, I can't get an abortion. _I won't_. It goes against everything I believe, you know that! I can't count the number of times I've said, written or sung about that. And even if I wanted one then got one, I would be driven out of the movement!" Felicity burst into tears yet again.

"What about the morning-after pill?" asked Peter, after Felicity finished sobbing for about a minute. "It forces an early period, so there's no chance at implantation. Therefore, no conception, no pregnancy."

"Even if I could get a prescription, Peter, no pharmacist in this town will fill it, for 'moral' reasons. They all claim it promotes adultery. This isn't like condoms or the Pill, which prevents pregnancy, even for married couples. We may have just created a life together. I don't want to destroy the baby – even if I don't want to get pregnant until I'm ready. And yes I am 36, yes I want to be a mother, but my ministry and career just can't handle a baby. Not now!"

"If I _could_ get you a morning-after pill, Felicity, would you take it?"

"Well, Peter, we already committed the lesser of two evils – the greater one being our actually planning The Man's whacking which we talked about, since we both have our rifles with us, and as a last resort. So yes, I'd take it, so get me the morning-after, damn it!" Felicity sighed. "But where can _you_ get it?"

"There's a free clinic at one of the universities in and around OKC," replied Peter. "One of my Facebook friends is a graduate student there. She's a fan of yours too and she's relieved you're okay but has agreed to keep it on the down low until you make your surprise blog entry tomorrow night. I'll give her the heads up but leave myself out of it - I'll even make up a fib, that you're going to the Middle East to perform with the USO and you want to be careful in case you are attacked by one of the locals. She'll just go to a vending machine at the athletics club on campus, which is stocked by the free clinic, and get a couple of packages with no prescription required. They also have The Pill OTC, too."

"Just that easy?" Felicity was shocked at that one.

"It's just that easy. I'll do a quick drive down there and be back by sunset so we can figure out how to sync my repeater with your YouTube channel. I'll grab some real good food and we can have a slow cooked dinner. And maybe we can do some more 'home cooking' afterwards too?"

"Well, I'm definitely on birth control from here on in, no matter what. Oh what the heck! You're here for a few days anyway. You're a once in a lifetime chance, and no matter how much Ruthie may be hurt by all of this, we all have the same enemy. And I'm making it up to her, directly. I'll personally tell her I'm sorry. And I will give her my promise, as I am to you now - and as God as our witness - I'll make sure that her and her friends get all the help they can get from within my circles, if they help me and my friends because I know they will anyway. We all need each other. We're only as strong as we are united in Christ. And united, we will win together.

"Oh, um ... Peter, make sure your friend gets me a six month supply of The Pill – because after the show I may have to make a real run for it for a while, and I'll be a target for rape by the holier than thous if and when they do find me; just like some female reports covering the Middle East have, recently and sadly. Just so you know, also, I'm actually tapped out on money right now and I don't get my monthly royalty check deposited in my account until a couple of days from now, so also tell your friend I _promise_ I'll wire her the money to pay for the meds, and a fair bit more as a thank you tip, the day of my comeback broadcast."

"Will let her know."

"And Peter? When you get condoms for yourself, make sure they're the large size. I wasn't expecting that part today either!" Felicity smirked.

Peter blushed. But he realized she was right. He had never been that big inside of his wife, ever.

"Sure thing," he said quietly. "Okay, Felicity, see you later. Thank you for all this time so far, especially today ... and ... I love you!" He had gasped before he said the last three words. But he meant it.

"Thank you, Pete - and I love you too! _Really_ love you!" She meant it too.

The lovers shared a French kiss for twenty seconds. As Peter drove off, his hybrid van in electric mode for the first two miles so no one in the neighborhood would hear him, Felicity stepped outside again, into her large tree-lined backyard, and looked up to the skies.

"I'm sorry, Jesus. I really am. For sinning against You, and for about to sin again," she prayed. "But if You get me through the next few days, I promise I'll make it up to You – in every way I can."


	9. When Night is Falling

Chapter 9

The next day, about six in the morning, Lisa Lumby found her way to the Anne Frank House in Amsterdam after riding an overnight bus back from Brussels. Dawn was breaking. Waiting a couple of doors over was Ruthie. She appeared to be toking a marijuana joint but in fact the object she was smoking from was an herbal cigarette. Besides Ruthie was a hard cover suitcase, the kind with a retracting handle one might see for use in train stations or airports.

"Very cute, Ruthie," Lisa said sarcastically, when she approached Ruthie.

"What do you mean, Lisa?" asked Ruthie, pointedly continue to inhale. She finished the one cigarette then lit another. This was a rare guilty pleasure – she tried tobacco once and hated it, but didn't mind herbs; but it was rare for her because they were way more expensive.

"You know an uncensored version of Anne Frank's diary was published about ten years ago or so. So you'd know that she had at least a muted interest in women; possibly she was outright bisexual. And she knew about herself and her sexuality, even before she was holed up with the others in that house. That's why you wanted to me to be here. Because you want your 'adventure in excellence' with me to begin here as an inspiration. Clever. There's just one beef I have with you, though."

"Which is?"

"Ruthie, I don't think Shelby and Rod explained the rules of intelligence gathering to you carefully enough, or if they did you weren't paying attention!" snapped Lisa. "When you agree to a meeting place or a rendezvous of any kind, you try to be _subtle_ about where you're going to tell someone to meet him or her, especially on short notice. You offer hints known to each other, common points of reference that outsiders may not understand. And this is anything but that. What if the disk had fallen into the wrong hands? What if the bad guys got their hands on the One Time Pad? The emulator and pad we're all using is pretty tough to crack, but not impossible – not by any means."

"So you're calling it off?"

"No. I asked you if you wanted to have sex with me. You said yes, that you don't mind or care about cheating on Peter. I said if you're game, then I am too and we're going to do this. I'm looking forward to it, really I am! Now, are you sure you weren't followed?"

"After arriving in Frankfurt, I have used several different aliases going between cities, including checking into all hotels. The only place I used my real name was at the Embassy in London." Ruthie shrugged. "I can't say a hundred percent for sure, but I at least followed that part of the suggestions made by Rod and Shelby. I have also created a couple more for both of us for our trip to Stockholm."

"Good. Are you ready?" asked Lisa.

"Let's rock!"

The women clasped each others' hands for the first time and at Lisa's urging Ruthie agreed to dispense of her planned intineary. Instead they took a route to the airport via a route that Lisa had thought out and used various modes of public transit in Amsterdam – river boat, tram, subway and bus – even though there were several more direct routes. Now that Ruthie had come this far, Lisa wasn't taking any chances. They took a plane for the short hop to Copenhagen. After a late breakfast, they then took a taxi to the train station and took a train that put them directly into central Stockholm by about four thirty in the afternoon.

Ruthie and Lisa used more aliases to check into a high-class but not snotty hotel in the city. They then rented a car and took their time enjoying themselves. Both had long wanted to visit a city that called itself the Venice of the North (Amsterdam and Copenhagen oddly enough, among others, made that claim as well) and both wanted a totally different backdrop so they could focus on the rest of the task at hand, as well as each other.

For supper, the women enjoyed platters of locally harvested fish with all the trimmings along with a large chocolate and cream cheesecake (which they took turns feeding each other with) and two bottles of wine, red and white, also from locally harvested grapes.

The women finally returned to their hotel room about nine at night. As they closed the door behind them, Ruthie made a dash for the balcony. The sun was midway through the sky although slowly declining. Night was falling and she was eager to get things going. There was a huge grin on her face as she turned around to face Lisa to say she was ready.

"Not yet, Ruthie," said Lisa. "Before we do, I want some answers, and I want truthful ones too. No one except a truly selfish person takes the decision to commit adultery lightly. So why have you decided to cheat on Peter, and why now?"

"That could take a while," said Ruthie.

"Take all the time you need, honey. I'm not going anywhere."

Ruthie took a chair on the round table and sat at about a sixty degree angle to the right of Lisa. She sat in deep thought for about two minutes. At last she spoke.

"I'm sure you remember, Lisa, back in the fall of 1998, three months before Sam and Dave were born, when Dad got shot."

"How can I forget?" replied Lisa. "I remember Luce and Mary. Their faces were like ghosts for more than a week. My chums and I, we avoided all of them because we were afraid they would lash out at us unexpectedly. I also remember seeing Simon and Deena walking home every day from middle school. She was crying uncontrollably, as if she felt if she had warned Blackstone about Johnny sooner, Eric wouldn't have been shot. And Matt...driving to and from Crawford. Spaced out. A couple days later, some friends of mine and I were at the Promenade, and I remember him having to swerve at the last second to avoid slamming into the plaza; totally uncharacteristic of him, a usually very cautious driver. "

"So you can understand, then, how my family's aversion to guns goes all the way back; actually even before because of The Colonel's experience with guns."

"Of course I do."

"And I'm you're aware about the nightmare the four of us in the church posse dealt with in Hawaii. I get Rod and Shelby, they have to use guns. Peter and I swore them off forever. I thought we did."

"But?" Lisa was waiting for Ruthie to explain.

"During the summer break, after our honeymoon and before our freshman year, I found out that Peter, behind my back, had taken up air rifle at UCLA's shooting range. By that time, the scholarships for that sport had already been doled out and of course he didn't need one because he, like I, got and maintained an academic scholarship. But he was good enough to make it onto the team, full-time. I was outraged, as you can imagine. I asked him why, given my family's and his family's history with guns, he wanted to play with something that clearly wasn't meant to be a game.

"He said, 'You want to know why? I'll show you.'

"And he took me to the shooting range, and loaded up seven clay pigeon shooting guns, set to fire the clay targets at random from any of the seven directions, anywhere from ten to sixty feet up. Thirty each. That's a total of two hundred ten; in most competitions it's one hundred. He was facing a thirty mile per hour headwind straight in his face. To my amazement, he got two hundred ten, out of two hundred ten."

"That is _remarkable _marksmanship!" said Lisa in shock. "And he had it all along in him, and you never even knew?"

"Apparently he didn't either. But he has incredibly steady hands, something I should have remembered from our making love so many times," laughed Ruthie. "Of course, I didn't want to be left out, so I tried out and within about a month I joined the team too. Which would have been fine, except for one tiny problem."

"Which is?" asked Lisa.

"In the NCAA, indeed in international sports, there are only two sports that are co-ed – that is, men and women compete on an equal level and in the same competitions. One is equestrian, which you know I also participated in in university. Didn't quite make the top twenty in the country so I couldn't qualify for the Olympic tryout. But I had a lot of fun with it. I still love riding horses, especially jumping."

"And the other co-ed sport is shooting...and you soon outclassed your husband."

"Well, yeah. In team competitions, Peter and I more than carried our teammates – well, not quite; of course they were really good too so we collectively won that part of the contest for UCLA. All four years. And Pete and I kept winning doubles competitions too. And national champions, again, all four years. But in each of the singles contests, we went head to head. During the season, win some lose some, each way. We kept making it to nationals because we finished top of the table during the regular season in our conference, the Pac 12. In nationals, though, the first three years neither of us won but we were both in the top ten. But in the finals of the clay competition in the senior year, it was totally crazy. We got one hundred each, the only two to do so; then we went to a tie breaker. Fifty each. We alternated who went first in each round. Perfect scores, again. _For eight overtime periods_.

"Finally in the ninth, after I got fifty yet _again_ some stupid photographer was changing film rolls – he still insisted on using film and not digital for aesthetic reasons – but while resetting he forgot to put the silencer back on for the mechanism. Sure enough, on clay thirty-two – CLICK. Peter totally lost his concentration, and ended up with a score of only thirty-nine."

"That's terrible – Peter must have been heartbroken," said Lisa.

"I wouldn't say heartbroken. Yes, it was a complete coincidence the paparazzo ran out of film between my turn and his. But Peter started yelled at the guy saying he did it on purpose to make sure I won since he preferred female athletes anyway. Peter then rushed at him and I tripped my husband just in time. Peter got disqualified, and the world governing body banned him from professional competitions anywhere in the world for two years."

"And that's not all there was to it."

"Nope," said Ruthie. "The funny thing is that Peter and I so much enjoyed guns by now we decided to get full hunting licenses along our competition credentials. It was no trouble getting a dual fishing and hunting license. We took a trip the following summer into the back country in one of the state forests, having earned a couple of tags to harvest game and birds. Despite my family's history with guns, I loved the sport and I still do – we hunters, at least those of us who play by the rules and that's the vast majority of us, truly believe the world's creation is truly God's and we have a duty to help Him control the animal population, responsibly. And only taking what we're entitled to, too.

"But human nature being what it is, one day while we were loading our rifles for the daily hunt – well, he shot me in the foot. An accident, of course. But now I was the one lunging at _him. _And when I backed him into a corner, he hit his noggin sideways and got a concussion. He sent an urgent message by one of those belt-held emergency outbound pagers, showing our current coördinates. We got pulled out by medical helicopter. While we were in the hospital, it was nothing but screaming for the first three days, and finally to protect ourselves from each other, we got separate isolation units in the nut hut wing."

"Psychiatric?"

"Yeah," said Ruthie, in disbelief over that one. "And don't forget, our kids were only three at the time. And Lucy and Kevin did _not like _babysitting them under those circumstances, I can assure you. When we got back to base camp a few days later, Fish and Wildlife confiscated the tags and since we didn't have a ride back for the rest of the trip and we couldn't cancel because of the huge penalty we would have had for leaving early, we were isolated in our cabin; and notwithstanding the skin films we've all seen on the subject, we didn't have hot sex due to 'cabin fever', the fever meant we just kept screaming at each other even more."

"Is that it?" asked Lisa.

"Oh no. For the record, Peter and I still hunt, although we're a hell of a lot more careful these days, and we always travel with hunting parties. But after the incident – oh, sorry Lisa! - That's when we got our first charge as ministers, in Seattle. Then three more, in Denver, Nashville and Roanoke. Four cities, four time zones. And four churches who kept two sets of books! Naturally, he and I were yelling at each other about why the other didn't do the due diligence. Not to mention, since we had a joint ministry, who took turns looking after the children. Which could not have been good for them either. And we went through that in the course of twenty months. He and I actually contemplated quitting the ministry and going back to social work, to save our sanity as well as our marriage.

"Finally, and it could only be a miracle, Rod and Shelby asked us to be their second stringers and it was great to be back with old friends again, as well as a church that was actually fun to be part of no matter how huge the congregation was. The ministry was good, the house was livable and we were so relieved of stress Pete and I started making love again – not just having sex. And for the next two years, our marriage was near perfection again. We actually thought above having another child and were trying. And a year ago, after a night of _really_ wild sex, we finally conceived. Another set of twins. But..."

"You lost them?" Lisa put her hands forward on the table as Ruthie collapsed forward on the table, as she sobbed. Ruthie slapped both of her hands on the table, and Lisa placed her hands firmly but gently on top of her friend's.

"At nineteen weeks. I don't know how – Peter and I were so careful this time," Ruthie finally said. "Unlike the other kids, we didn't have any sex at all during the pregnancy. I was on a reduced workload, had several hours of bed rest every day and I even got Rod and Shelby, along with Peter, to do all the shopping. I know my babies - another boy and girl - are in Heaven, but it still hurts!

"Well nothing was the same again. Two months later, we started having sex again, but we just went through the motions. And like I said, it was still basic sex, for another four months, but he had gone totally cold. I don't know what happened for him to do that – maybe he liked my being yummy when I was pregnant but he didn't have that any longer. Or maybe he was still in shock. All I know is, our coupling totally stopped four months ago. No matter how sexy I dressed, no matter how many times I said I loved him, nothing. Finally, I pleaded with him to at least lick my tunnel of love – and yeah, he made me come but only because he had to. Then a month or so later, I asked him, politely, if I could blow him. He agreed, but he was so bitter I actually wanted to spit – that's how bad he tasted. Usually what comes out is way sweeter than honey. That never happened to me either, and I wondered what would happen next."

"Do Shelby and Rod know you two are having problems?"

"No. Or if they have, they haven't said anything. They have noticed Peter and I only hold hands for the after church 'hand of fellowship' line and we don't hold hands going into and out of our offices anymore, or for the monthly board meetings. But if they have seen anything, they just think we're going into a rough phase. They've had theirs, a few of them, but they always figure it out within a few days. And they absolutely love each other. They've never even been tempted to cheat - and they both tell us the sex is beyond terrific which in turn makes their daughters squeal with delight when they all have breakfast the next day and Rod and Shel keep kissing each other over and over again, so the kids know what happened the night before. Man, I wish Peter and I could have that again. Our kids deserve that kind of delight, too!"

Lisa went into the minibar, grabbed a bottle of Scotch rye for both, and poured out a shot for Ruthie. She signalled for two. Lisa obliged and poured a double dose for herself.

"So, I guess my next question is, why haven't you and Peter gone into counselling?" she asked.

"No reason to...I thought it was a phase, as well. But no, I haven't talked to him to patch things up. And he hasn't approached me. Even the kids, who usually know something is wrong if a couple at church is in trouble and let us know about that early on so Pete and I can intervene early on - usually with success - haven't had their radars on us. They haven't said anything either because they don't know or if they do they don't want to because they don't see it as their business since it's their parents. Which is very unusual."

"So, and I guess before the big question why you're here with me, I need to know how Felicity Foster Hunter fits into all of this. I'm Catholic and have been my whole life and I am absolutely devoted to the faith so I didn't hear much of her, until the death threat. Which by the way was so vague it could have applied to any woman preacher – which is probably why the cops have not investigated the preacher who uttered it."

Lisa had raised a reasonable point. It was non-specific.

But Ruthie knew who he meant.

"Peter's more into following online ministries more than I am," Ruthie said, "but he has always loved her music – and after I heard a couple of her albums I become a fan of hers, too. I have all of her albums on my mp3. But as far as I knew until yesterday, they had no contact with each other. Our church keeps track of _every_ inbound and outbound letter. And because we use postage meters we don't have to go to the post office; although we do make sure personal letters stay personal and are accounted for accordingly. We get communications from other ministries. Not hers. Not official, not personal. And I keep track of the phone records too including his cell phone. Nothing."

"Maybe a pay phone with a phone card you can get from a convenience store?"

"No way. And why? Our personal phone service, like the church's, is through the cable company. And with it, free long distance anywhere in the States - including our colonies around the world - and Canada. No need to use a phone card or a pay phone. And we make calls all over because we have a huge virtual calling index of other ministers. So no reason to suspect anything there either.

"Then why do you think, suddenly, he'd just up and leave to help Felicity?" asked Lisa. "And what tipped you off it wasn't a hunting trip?"

"It wasn't a hunting trip, because as I've said, Peter never goes hunting without me, and we never go out except with a hunting party which we plan months in advance. The tag lotteries for the summer and fall hunts are held late winter or early spring, and we have to enter by phone or web before Christmas the previous year. And I help the group pick the zones where we should enter. As far as his wanting to help her – well, he's always been generous. Remember, even before we joined our current church, he was already a millionaire – from the insurance settlements from the murder-suicide of his parents. He has invested wisely and is already up to mid seven figures. And he always gives a cut of the interest each year to charity as well to help friends of his who need a bit of a hand-up. I get a cut of the payouts too and I also help out local charities with it. It's just human nature for both of us. I learned a lot about being charitable from my parents; and he from Paris."

"But surely, Ruthie, you can understand why I am wondering why he told you _where_ he was, or at least the city. Most people having an affair hide that."

"We always tell each other where we are if we have to be in another place for a few days in case of an emergency. Including a phone number, even that of a go-between. So, in this case, Rod and Shelby got the number of another classmate from divinity school and now hunting buddy. He's always been a good friend."

"Why would Felicity be on Facebook, though? Isn't that just asking for trouble, especially for a celebrity?"

"A lot are, Lisa. But this isn't like us _following_ an A-lister. Most celebrities have a policy of only _accepting_ a friend request if he or she knows a 'friend in low places' _firsthand. _Only one degree of separation. Peter would have been two degrees, at least until now. I just did a search on a lark, putting in Enid as a city. When her name came up as a friend of the hunting friend, it was the only thing that made sense."

"But if she went missing," backtracked Lisa, "you'd think there'd be an APB on her."

"No parents, no siblings, no children of her own. No family. And since she's a hunter too, people thought she may have taken a trip just to be alone with nature and God. The police did a search of her place, according to both Kevin and Roxanne. Unless she had a secret safe room, with an access port only she knew about, they had to presume as had all the other cops, she was MIA."

"But Felicity is definitely alive. Peter would not go to Enid unless he had the friend of a friend get through to her. The friend would have been the only other person she could trust until this blows over."

"Yes."

"So why is he cheating on you? And with an older woman?"

"Why wouldn't he?" said Ruthie, resigned. "Our marriage is on the rocks. If it was me, I'd probably do the same. If you don't communicate, you don't have sex, you only do the absolute necessaries to raise your children – then of course you'll have an affair. Plus, Felicity's sexy, she's smart and oh can she sing – in no particular order."

"And so you've decided it's payback time."

"Yes."

"Okay, Ruthie," said Lisa, slowly, "now for the most important question. Why do you want to make love to me? Of all the men and women in the world, why me? And it's _not_ just because I invited you to."

"Lisa," said Ruthie, "something sparked in me when you told me how you put your life back together after you were raped. Just taking Comp Lit with minors in French _and _German takes a lot of nerve. Living with your _ex _boyfriend and your kids, along with your brother, his ex and their kids? Most people would go crazy over that. Most women I know who went to higher education are stuck at call centres. Or meat factories. Or assembling wire harnesses at parts plants. None of them bad jobs at all – someone has to do them – but they've wasted their talents because they never used their ambition. You got yours back, and you used it. Big time.

"And asking your brother's ex to have sex with you? And getting to the point where you want to marry her, with the kids' and ex's blessings? Wow. That really is the ice cream on the apple pie! Lisa, you have it all going to you. Even if you hadn't propositioned me, I realize now, if I met you under different circumstances, I'd probably try to seduce _you!"_

Ruthie paused.

"Is there something else you wanted to say?" asked Lisa.

"You're right, Lisa. I was wrong to say I wouldn't consider it. I actually have. I lied to you when I said I haven't. I've never said what I am about to say, out loud. I have never said it to Peter or our kids. Not even to my sibs. Or my parents. But here goes...I'm bisexual. I actually have been, since a year before I first laid eyes on Peter. And I consider myself honoured that you will be the first woman I ever make love with. I only ask for your patience. Because..."

The sun was rapidly approaching the horizon, and the red sky getting rapidly darker.

"Because I'm really new at this, a total fool. So please, be gentle with me, and let me know if I'm a little too hard with you."

Lisa smiled, and drew Ruthie to her feet.

"I will be gentle, honey," she said, "Just follow my lead."

Lisa brought Ruthie towards her. They faced each other, eyes locked, for fifteen seconds. Finally, Lisa pulled Ruthie closer and started kissing her. They kissed several times, then Ruthie let Lisa place her tongue inside of her mouth. After a few minutes, Ruthie had her turn with Lisa.

They pulled away slightly. Ruthie slowly unbuttoned Lisa's blouse and as she did so traced her tongue from Lisa's lips towards the top of her bosom. Lisa then had her turn and when she reached Ruthie's bra she unclasped it and let the breasts fall out. They were hanging slightly but Lisa observed with a smile they were slowly becoming larger with excitement. Ruthie was moaning as Lisa kissed her breasts, from the outside in, first the right which was slightly larger, while rubbing her hands on the other's peak; then she reversed. When Lisa sucked on the top of the mounds as as baby would getting breast milk, Ruthie was biting her lips to keep from screaming. She was so thrilled she pushed Lisa back and had her turn although she was a bit faster.

They then took off each other's skirts. Then the shoes, and stockings. The only things left on each woman were their respective pantyhose and the panties underneath them. Once the hoses came off. Ruthie reached into Lisa's panties and found her way to the sweet spot, where she started running her fingers up and down until it got moist and Ruthie even placed her finger inside. Now it was Lisa's turn to get excited with glee. She returned the favour to Ruthie, then finally pulled off her panties and started licking the sweet spot as the top also peaked and she started rubbing that as well.

Ruthie wasn't sure how much more she could take. She finally yanked off Lisa's panties, pulled her to the king sized bed, after ripping off all its covers, and licked her sideways and invited Lisa to do the same to her at the same time. Finally, after a long time of this, they finally crossed each other's legs as close as two women could be, and rubbed their crotches against each other until finally they had the climaxes of their entire lives. No man or woman had ever satisfied Lisa like this. And Peter had never made Ruthie this satisfied either.

While their total time together was close to an hour and a half, it felt like a lifetime had passed. And they were lying closer to each other than to another human being. So close, that when they woke up the next morning at eight in the morning, still in each other's arms and their crotches less than two inches from each other's, they wondered if they truly belonged in their now relationships or with each other.

Finally they had morning glory in the shower and got into their nightgowns. Lisa made breakfast. One hour later as she and Ruthie had even more foreplay and got ready for another round – they agreed to four more each day for that and the following two days – Ruthie's cell phone started buzzing in cycles of three short pulses each, which meant an e-mail or instant message.

"What the heck?" asked Ruthie.

"Do you think Peter knows about _us?"_ asked Lisa.

"Don't know, don't care. Karma's a bitch."

Ruthie tapped the screen. There was one e-mail, which was from Peter. Wondering if Peter was going to fess up to something she already knew, she scrolled to the text but all it had was a URL shortened link. Ruthie tapped on that.

It was a link to Felicity's website. It was her new blog entry, the first one in 25 days. And Ruthie's eyes opened up, with an expression that expressed some shock and some joy.

"Harrison Anderson, I know why you were smirking. You thought I committed suicide. But I'm very much **ALIVE.** And later, at 2 Hours Zulu at 7216.515 kHz SSB, the war begins. With luck, you'll also see me on YouTube – live – hackers or no hackers!"

"Zulu is Greenwich Mean Time," said Lisa after reading the entry, too. "Most of Europe is GMT + 2 in the summer, so that's four AM tomorrow morning! Think Felicity'll fess up herself about her and Peter?"

"If she has any hope at all of saving her ministry, she's going to have to," replied Ruthie. "She has to tell the truth so she can call out Anderson for his lies."

"Say, Ruthie," asked Lisa, "is that frequency yours' and Peter's?"

"No," said Ruthie. "We have access to a fair band of frequencies as do all hams; if a shortwave radio station isn't using it, or any other ham isn't, it's pretty much first come first serve, and the other guys and I can change frequencies – frequently – if we have to. That frequency Felicity and Peter referred to is in the 40 meter band, which is really good for broadcasts after dark – they propagate a fair distance. Even a very low power transmitter. All of North America, the Caribbean, and Europe will be in the dark so it'll be crystal clear if you have a shortwave – and in this part of the world, as you know, those radios are more ubiquitous."

"Well, I have one in one of my suitcases. A windup one with a solar backup."

"Me too...I haven't even had a chance to listen to the BBC or the Voice of America since I came here."

"Don't listen to VOA!" pleaded Lisa. "Their sister station, Radio Free Europe, is way less biased!" She paused, then said, "We may need to get a better receiver though. I can hit one of the electronics shops here around lunchtime and get something with digital tuning that will tune in right to that frequency so we can listen just in case the video feed goes - which I suspect it might since _millions _are going to tune in."

"Swedish labels, though?"

"International symbols. The instruction manuals though, like everything else here, is in the twenty-three official languages of the EU - so we can set it up in minutes with the English directions. But I have something like it at home. Need to keep in touch with what goes on back home. State-run or otherwise."

"Boy, Anderson's going to be pissed!"

"Yeah, he will. But that's his problem. And that's something I'll drink to."

"Swedish vodka, I presume," said Ruthie, reaching into the minibar.

"Only if you'll have a shot with me, sweetheart."

The women drank, and kissed, and began their next round in bed.

A third of the way around the world and nine time zones away, in a gated compound somewhere in Anaheim, Harrison Anderson and his getting uglier by the day wife, Prudence, were getting ready for bed when he the phone started ringing. Prudence picked up the phone. It was their business manager, who told her what he had just seen on Felicity's website. Prudence hung up, her face turning whiter than a ghost – turning into something of a mirror image of a zombie. Not that she didn't already look like one in any case.

"What is it Prudence?" asked Harrison.

Prudence was so in shock she could barely reach over to her husband to whisper. Finally, she grabbed a sticky note, wrote the message and handed it to Harrison.

It took three seconds. Finally, Harrison screamed, at the top of his lungs, _**"**__**JIMMY **__**FLAGITIOUS**__** CARTER!"**_

Or something like it.


	10. J'accuse

Chapter 10

The bombshell that Felicity was alive and ready to fire back got the social media community ablaze. While Harrison and Prudence Anderson ordered their technical support team to shut down all her pages and jam the frequency so she couldn't be heard, they were an hour too late. Instead, seconds after Felicity's blog entry, dozens of other hams around the world offered their bandwidths, and live audio streaming on their related websites. And setting up live video streaming to boot. As did many of her fellow gospel singers, apologetics ministries, and a lot of Catholic sympathizers. And to her delight, even a major free speech think tank, _one run by an unrepentant atheist,_ got their resources geared up.

In other words, there were now hundreds if not thousands of mirror sites and frequencies, which Peter kept updating at a fever's pitch on Felicity's website, between their making love several times.

No one was going to silence her now.

In the biggest surprise of all, even Roxanne got through to Felicity via instant messaging. She quietly told her that while it was illegal, there was a section of spectrum normally used by emergency services in New York City that was actually down for a few days during the latest round of digital upgrades and it was free for her to use – not yet knowing of course Peter was orchestrating the operation. Peter picked a few channels there that would also carry well.

It was two hours before 9 pm and Peter and Felicity had finished making love for the sixth time in the last twenty-seven hours. At this point they were almost totally spent, but they knew they had a show to do. So, they went into the shower, lathered each other up for another half hour while making love yet again, and finally got down to business.

As Peter made the last preparations to sync up all the frequencies and mirror sites to his and Felicity's respectively, Felicity at last made her choice of wardrobe. It was a gold jacket and skirt, which she chose in honor of one of her heroes, Corazon Aquino and her successful bloodless "Yellow Revolution" in the Philippines in 1986 after Ferdinand Marcos tried to steal the election from her – and Felicity's way of saying she wouldn't back down, not now. With this, she also picked the yellow shoes, nail polish and lipstick. She made a point, however, of wearing the red bra, panties and stockings. That red bra was defiantly showing through her cleavage. As she explained to Peter, the gold covering indicated her knowledge, the red meant action – in other words, attach the messenger and see what happens.

"Brilliant, sweetie," said Peter. "Are you ready?"

"Sure," said Felicity. "How much time?"

"We're on in five, but we turn on the frequencies and video feeds in two; then the interval signal a minute later." They kissed. She took her place behind her desk and microphone, and in front of the camera, while Peter ran through last sound checks.

Nothing the Andersons had tried to shut down their mortal enemy had worked. Finally the reining monarchs of the Word of Faith movement just decided to let the woman have her piece of mind; then they'd do her in.

Around the world, millions were tuning in and watching. In Stockholm from their listening post, and after making love at midnight for two hours, Ruthie and Lisa, having napped for just under another two and who were now sitting up again and their naked bodies touching each other and wrapped by a king sized blanket, tuned into the first frequency. Just static. Lisa thought of perhaps trying the mirror channels.

"No Lisa," said Ruthie. "Peter knows what he's doing. Trust me."

"All right," said her lover. "Looks like the video feed's on too – test pattern."

Finally the static cleared up. A red light indicated the frequency was active. Another sixty seconds of silence.

Then the interval signal. A heavy metal riff of the first four lines of an early 19th century piano and vocal song.

"The Erlking!?" Lisa loved the Schubert music grafted to a Goethe poem about a kid stalked and then murdered by an elf that the child's father thinks is just a figment of the imagination. But whoever was playing this now was just butchering it.

"Not my first choice, Lise," agreed Ruthie, "but it does set him and me apart from the cloud."

At the end of the riff, a recorded voice, that of Peter, said, "This is Alpha Lima Tango Tango Delta Bravo Nine, Alpha Hotel Charlie Six; Saint Louis, Missouri, United States of America. RP Consultants Group, the voice of reason and sanity in the end times. We will be pleased to provide a QSL card. Please send your reception report including your location with coördinates if available, and the time of the reception in UTC and send it to: RP Consultants Radio, Box 7235410, Saint Louis, Missouri, 63107, United States of America. If you are in the United States, please include a self-addressed stamped envelope size 16 or larger with two domestic stamps. If you are from outside the United States, please include a self-addressed envelope size C-5 or larger with two international reply coupons. And if you are an amateur operator, please let us know so we can get a QSL from you!"

"Why two stamps or coupons?" asked Lisa to Ruthie. They were watching the YouTube channel which was showing a test pattern along with the audio. The video was broadcasting the same audio background.

"Our QSL card doesn't fit into a business sized envelope," Ruthie replied. "And the dimension it does fit into, makes it oversized even if it looks like it isn't."

Five seconds of silence, then the Erlking riff again.

Then Peter's voice again, this time live: "Good evening, ladies and gentlemen to our listeners and viewers around the world. This is a special broadcast of 'Felicity and You' tonight, coming to you live from Enid, Oklahoma, United States of America. We tell you this because she has nothing to hide, and nothing to fear. At the sound of the tone it will be exactly two hours UTC."

BEEP.

"And now, ladies and gentlemen, the number one Southern Gospel _and_ Contemporary Christian singer, number one religious and inspirational author, and the number one radio and television talk show host in Christian television today, America's moral leader: Felicity Foster Hunter!"

The television test pattern changed to black for two seconds.

Peter turned the camera on, signaled Felicity that she was on the air, and blew her a kiss for good luck.

"Good evening, brothers and sisters!" said Felicity, with a huge smile on her face.

"I wonder how she got that smile?" said Lisa sarcastically.

Ruthie winced.

"It has been twenty-six days since I last spoke with you. In my last broadcast, as you all know, I delivered a special message to Harrison and Prudence Anderson who co-operate the largest Christian broadcaster in the United States, if not the entire world. I am not going to repeat what I said then, it's a matter for the public record and is widely available. You also know what Pastor Anderson said. And while he can offer a plausible and deniable explanation, there is no doubt about how he ended his editorial. And since every point of reference referred to in the speech were criticisms of things I have made over the years, that the closing line was definitely about me.

"So, look, let's be upfront. I'm not going to press charges. Why should I and why would I want to? It would detract me from _my _work which is to spread the True Word of our Lord and Savior in the best way I know how.

"Doing that, also means being forthright about yourself. And while I believe I am entitled to a zone of privacy just like any celebrity, I also believe that to speak truth to others you have to be faithful to yourself. This is why my lay ministry has always published its annual report online and had it fully audited by a truly impartial arbiter who has the ability to conduct surprise forensic audits during the year. For that matter, I even go further and put out my _personal_ tax return online. With all the receipts. Nothing to hide, unlike some other people."

Felicity paused. She had rehearsed what she would say next. And while it hurt, she had to say it. And she would not cry.

"While I was in hiding, or something like it," she continued, "there was only one person in the world who I trusted to keep the secret that I was alive. It was my intention not to speak until towards the end of the year, once I got a better sense of where I wanted to take this ministry next and it would be he that would let the world know I was still alive. However, it was through this one person that _another_ came forward. It turns out the third is a friend of my friend and it was he who encouraged me to come out of my shell and to fight back now.

"I am not going to say at this time exactly when the contact was made or the circumstances how we met. I am also not going to give his name either, not yet. But suffice it to say, he is a married man, a younger married man, a minister of the Word and the Sacrament; and his wife is also a minister. Both love Jesus more than they love even each other. And in the course of his assisting me in preparing for tonight's show – well, he and I committed adultery. Several times. I'm not proud of it, and neither is he. I have sinned, and I am sorry. Especially to a woman who I've come to admire and respect during this time – the man's wife. A woman who has made it her life's goal to help her common man, and – like me – cast off the chaff that poisons the grain of the Holy Word.

"Words cannot express how sorry I am, sister. And just because I'm not crying doesn't mean I'm not sorry, because I am!" Felicity paused, catching her breath. She leaned her head into her right hand for ten seconds. "Your husband is also, and he'll tell you that. And when I see you soon, I will tell you sorry personally so you know I am. But we both are imbued in The Work, the _True_ Work, and if you help me reach my goal, I'll help you reach yours. We are only as strong as we are united, as weak as we are divided."

In Anaheim, the Andersons were laughing as soon as Felicity began her confession.

"Can you actually believe this hypocritical whore?" said Harrison.

"Another one bites the dust!" cackled Prudence, opening up a bottle of 40 year whiskey and planning to down it in one sitting.

"Dad, Mom," said their daughter, Hope, a minister who unlike her parents went to an accredited seminary, and unlike them _wasn't_ laughing, "Pastor Hunter – soon to be the _Reverend _Hunter, she wouldn't say this if she didn't want to get caught. Certain preachers in the past, we kicked off the network because they hid their skeletons until they had their boxers or panties down. And whether we like her or not, she has never sold her services, so she's not a whore. Promiscuous, maybe, but not a prostitute. Saying what she did is gutsy."

"What are you getting at?" asked her mother.

"I'm not taking her side, Mom. But if I did something like that, I'd want to clear the air so I could free my head too. Besides which her ministry is chump change to what we take in. She's putting it all on the line tonight. 'What is past is prologue,' and she just delivered the preamble to her main talking point. And my guess is we're not going to be the only targets.

"And the only hope we may have to stop the short term hemorrhaging if our followers and our brother and sister ministries' followers, want their money back, is telling them they have made pledges they still need to fulfill and if they don't we'll tie them up in small claims court – or by a collection agency. We'll still get seventy cents on the dollar."

"That just might work, Hope," said her father. "You're a genius!"

"No Dad ... just a preacher's kid who's also a preacher, trying to help. But thanks anyway."

Back in Enid, Felicity swallowed a glass of water and poured herself another glass from the pitcher.

Then she was ready for her sermon.

"There is no point in going _ad nauseam_ about every single thing every wrong preacher has said and done. I have done that for a few years along with so many others. And it gets us nowhere. So instead, I'm going to get right to the point. I reaffirm everything I said four weeks ago. I am not taking it back. And as far as the British Israelism movement and my address two months ago, I reaffirm that as well. The transcripts for both are available on line at my website – you can read them yourself.

"What really has me hot and bothered, however, is what is being done with other people's money. I'm not so much talking about the sowing a seed scam, which it always has been. No, I'm talking about donations made just to run the ministries themselves, and the total lack of accountability with many of them.

"I have said this before, but I'll say it again, that if a ministry is willing to open its books then it is willing to engage with the community. If it does not, it is a cult. Perhaps this country's most celebrated minister, someone so beloved by Protestants as well as Catholics, is continuing his hot streak of ministry going into his seventh decade. He has always been clear who he is. He still lives in his home in the mountains, a humble cabin, and not in an extravagant mansion. True, I have a nice spread, about 4000 square feet, but it's because I plan on having a lot of children in the next few years, both my own and those I will adopt, once I find the Christ-centered husband I know Jesus has waiting for me."

_No Felicity, _thought Peter. _No way. No effing way. I really enjoyed our screwing each other, and I'll always love you for that. But after this show, it's over. Really over. Ruthie and I are going to work this out. And even if we don't, and you and I do end up together, she'll never let you adopt the kids. Shared custody, maybe even the same house, but adoption, no._

"The man I speak of, and he needs not be named because you know who he is, also openly reports his revenues. He took in about a hundred million last year, has about four hundred million cash and equivalents on hand and total assets of nearly seven hundred million. His salary? Four hundred thousand bucks. That's it. A lot of money compared to what most people make, but his stipend is also set by an outside board of auditors. Not insiders. And his board of directors are all outsiders, except for two – his son and his daughter, both of whom are preachers themselves.

"He's always built bridges, always demanded racial, social and economic integration at his Crusades. And he's kept it simple. Find salvation through Jesus Christ. Not the dollar. And he's never said anything about prosperity because there's nothing to talk about. Or denying people their prosperity by making them hand over their money, denies them the simple path to salvation."

At last, Felicity controlled the agenda. But she was only getting started.

"I have never understood why a church would want to keep its books closed. Especially those with the glass walls. If you want to look out into the world, you'd better be damn well ready to have those on the other wise demand to look in through a transparent window and not a frosted or mirrored one. But after all this time, and after speaking over and over such that I feel I may be wasting my breath I shall instead only candid facts to be reviewed by a candid people.

"Years ago, when Alfred Dreyfus was railroaded by the French Army's courts-martial, Émile Zola issued his famous _'J'accuse'_. Tonight, to all of you who have crossed me over the years, I make this editorial reply. It is based not on innuendo, but actual facts and investigation conducted by me and my team of private investigators, the following accusations. This is my true bill of indictment."

For the next eighty minutes, and with the assistance of a suite generated slide presentation created by Peter and set to change slides automatically with a timed transcript, Felicity made no fewer than 27 specific allegations – 21 against the Andersons, and other 6 aimed at a British Israelism sect just an hour's drive from where she lived and who lived in an even greater bunker mentality. For each, she produced documentation obtained through her sources. At the sixty five minute point, she dropped a huge bombshell – just before she holed up, she delivered the entire dossier, writ large, to a federal grand jury that had convened in Dallas six months before to investigate three dozen ministries, including her own. She conceded that about $270,000 of dirty money had made its way to her coffers but as soon as she found out she was being set up, she immediately turned the money over to prosecutors.

At their parsonage, Shelby and Rod were watching on her laptop along with their daughters as well as James and Heather who were being babysat during their parents' absence. It was only half-way through the dissertation that Shelby finally realized who was the invisible hand behind the broadcast.

"Peter! Peter's directing this. And _he_ slept with Felicity. How could he do that to Ruthie? And what did he possibly tell her with the stuff he's gotten with his security clearance?"

"Shel," said Rod, "he wouldn't say a word. I know him. But what she told him at first would have overlapped a lot of what we've covered – as well as Lisa and Tom. He figured she _also_ had the smoking gun we've all been looking for, and she's more than showing it now! And if she's gone to a grand jury already, we're at least a quarter of the way there. If they fell in love, that's their problem – but if Felicity said she's sorry, that's really big of her."

"Mom, Dad, Maighread – and James and Heather," Rhiannon asked her parents and sister and friends, "twenty bucks Pastor Ruthie _didn't _sleep with Lisa."

"No bet," came the chorus.

In New York City, Chandler and Roxanne were watching the broadcast with their daughters. They were all marveling at a woman who had nothing to hide and was going for the jugular. At one point Roxie openly asked why she wasn't running for President, she was just one year above the minimum age requirement and seemed to have the ability to solve intractable programs. But she and her husband weren't ready for what happened next.

"Mom ... Dad ..." Rita's voice was shaking. "You know our babysitter, Emilio?"

"Yes," her parents said.

"Um...I know this is going to be hard to believe, but four weeks ago, he ... he ..." Rita started to cry.

"The asshole raped both of us!" snapped Cathy. "And it's been going on every time he's been here, three times a week!" And she started to cry too.

"WHAT!?" screamed Roxie and Chandler together.

They pounded their fists on the table, then hugged their daughters, weeping too.

"Why didn't you tell us until now?" asked Chandler.

"We were afraid to," said Cathy. "We didn't know what to say, or if we could, when. And it gets even worse."

"How could it possibly?" Roxie was beyond inconsolable at this point.

"He's Hope Anderson's ex-boyfriend," replied Rita, "or so he claimed to us. A week ago, when he made me have sex with my sister – and it was even worse than him being inside of us – he was laughing, then he said he was sitting on a hundred and twenty million dollars that he stole in precious metals trading three years ago, and he tithed to Aunt Ruthie and Uncle Peter's church to evade income taxes."

While Ruthie and Peter weren't their real aunt and uncle, of course, the ministers had always treated the girls as if they were their nieces as much as their real nephews and nieces through Ruthie's older siblings.

"When Felicity announced her broadcast," Rita continued, "Emilio told us if we said anything about the money, he'd kill us – and you! He then skipped town. We tried to call him to say we weren't going to be bullied ... but he was using a disposable number."

"Wait ... " said Chandler, "...did you girls just say this coward parked twelve million of stolen money at Ruthie and Peter's church?"

"Yes!" chorused the sisters.

"Well, there's still eight million more to be accounted for," analyzed Roxie, "but if I had to make a bet, maybe another pedophile has done the same for the rest. Maybe a BI. But who would his – or her – victims be?"

"I don't even want to know," said Chandler. "Girls, we believe you, but those are strong allegations. Can you prove he said all of this? And what he did to you?"

Rita ran to the hutch, and after pulling aside a few books, pulled out a video camera. She grabbed some latex gloves Cathy had thrown to her, and nudged out the data card.

"Nanny cam," grinned Cathy. "You thought we'd take chances with strangers?"

Roxanne was ebullient. She grabbed the phone and dialed her precinct captain so the family could be rushed to the station to file a report.

Chandler was also delighted, but realized there was one missing point.

"Girls, you should have told us right away, so we could have gotten you to a hospital for rape kits!"

"Way ahead of you, Dad," replied Cathy sadly. "We got them right after number eight, on the way to our weekly tutoring session. They're at the lab, ready to go."

"Fantastic!" said Roxie. "I'm proud of both of you. Dad is too! Not only did you stand up for yourself, you may be the fifth column Felicity Hunter's been dreaming of!"

"Uh, Roxanne," said Chandler, "not to nitpick, but a 'fifth column' is someone on the _inside _who undermines the whole. I think what our daughters have in mind, is that they want you and the other members in your precinct to call your colleagues in Anaheim to get to Emilio's ex, Hope. My read is she's always been the more doctrinally sound minister in an otherwise heretical ministry. She may have broken up with him because she found out he's a prick. Or if not, was into movies that were way beyond hard core – videotaped simulated rapes or even snuff films. We get her to talk about him, she then talks about the role he may have had at her church and why she dropped him or if he was driven out ... and then the house of cards starts to fall."

"Let's hope she does talk, before he rapes any more innocent children – if he hasn't already!" said Roxanne, angrily.

The parents hugged their daughters, and promised no one would ever hurt them again. And Roxanne and Chandler were shedding a tear for another reason – they were going to tell the girls their mother had had a really late "late" day and was now four months along and they were going to have a brother; but that happy news would now have to wait.

Meanwhile Felicity was wrapping up. She finally ended her broadcast with these words:

"I have presented my evidence. This is verifiable, this is truth. I have more, about your personal lives, obtained through a private investigator not connected to the private eyes who helped me gather the evidence presented tonight. My next broadcast is in two weeks, the day after I finish my divinity degree that I have earned by correspondence from the University of Tulsa. As the soon to be _Reverend _Felicity Foster Hunter, and head of my ministry which will be reset as a church, I do not want to engage in smears. I will give you a chance to admit your sins, as I have mine tonight. If not, I will let it rip, and there will be no mercy – not from man, not from God.

"Thank you all for keeping the faith, and all your prayers. I have not realized until the last two days, just how many friends I have – even among those who are not Christians, and those who have no religion at all! The Lord bless you and keep you, the Lord make His face shine upon you and be gracious unto you, the Lord lift His countenance upon you, and give you peace. And may the Lord make you a blessing. Until next time, I'm Felicity Foster Hunter. Advance."

The broadcast ended. The feed terminated, and the frequencies were vacated.

"Thank you, darling," said Felicity to Peter.

"You're welcome, Felicity, but you understand this is the end," Peter replied. "I have to save my marriage with Ruthie, if I can."

"What about my telling her I'm sorry? I said I would!"

"You'll have to come to Saint Louis, at your own expense. And unless things get out of control with the investigation, I'd say wait at least a week, please."

"Okay, Peter, I understand. Are you okay?"

"Never better!"

"I guess you'll be packing up?"

"Yeah, I'll be gone before dawn. If you need me for anything, _other_ than sex, you have my cell. I'm on call like any minister. I hope you remember you have to be starting a fortnight from now."

"Good night Peter," said Felicity quietly, "and again, mega thanks!"

"Good night, Felicity," said Peter, "and good luck."

He and her loaded up his gear into the van. They shared a hug and a final kiss, a strictly platonic one, and went to their separate bedrooms, but just two hours later he tiptoed out of his room, headed to the van, and drove straight back to Saint Louis. He only stopped once, for a four am breakfast and tank refill, before arriving back at his parsonage at dawn. He knew it was time to face the music – from his children first and foremost.


	11. The Choice

Chapter 11

While Ruthie had wanted to spend the three days she promised Lisa Lumby, the situation back at home was getting weirder by the minute. So she headed out by noon after making love with Lisa one last time, around the time Peter was making his breakfast stop. Before she headed out to the airport to take a plane from Stockholm to Boston and a connection to Saint Louis, she asked Lisa if she could get a rain check before Lisa and Brigitte got married.

"Sure, Ruthie," agreed Lisa. "But it has to be no later than eight weeks before the big day, Christmas Eve. My fiancée and I were supposed to be totally off sex with each other or anyone else between the end of Hall Pass this weekend and then, but given these unusual circumstances I think she'll make an exception – and in return I'll let her have one last go with my brother. Whatever happened with them before, they still adore each other and as I've said they still and always will have each other's backs. Given how much patience and love she's given me, I think she's entitled to it. You won't have to fly out to Europe – I'm seeing Mom in mid-October, so we can share a weekend. Presuming of course ..."

"There's no presuming. Peter and I have actually been talking about separation, and we were going to file for divorce by Christmas with the decree granted when school lets out next June; but now that I know and that he knows – it's over and there's no point extending the pretense. Our kids deserve at least that much. And the truth about both of us."

"I'm sorry, sweetie," said Lisa, touching her hand on Ruthie's cheek.

"It's not your fault. You wanted to seduce me, and I let you have your way with me. I loved it, but I make my bed. But I will see you soon ... really soon. God bless your family, Lise – the whole family."

"Thanks, Ruthie my darling .. and have a safe trip," said Lisa, and kissed Ruthie with a full tongue tripper one last time.

Ruthie went to the airport and asked for a change in layover stop in case she was being followed. She slept all the way home with the help of blinders, save for checking through Customs at Reagan National and changing planes. She needed the rest after several crazy days, as well as to rest up for the inevitable fight with Peter.

Peter in the meantime got back home and was given the silent treatment from his kids. He wasn't surprised – he not only hurt his wife, he hurt them and betrayed their trust too. When he had lunch inside the church building with Rod and Shelby, they heaped one angry statement after another about being so reckless and putting not only his marriage on the line but also the church's reputation. Shelby, in particular, said that she and her husband had so much stress during the previous twenty-four hours they were actually considering resigning and moving their ministry and non official cover to another city to get away from both Peter and Ruthie. But since no one other than a select few knew the truth, they would keep it that way until the latter couple figured things out between themselves.

Ruthie came home on Wednesday night, after spending nearly four hours at a suburban bar a mile from the airport, drinking no less than seven beers of different varieties, and then took a taxi to the edge of town where the church was.

When she walked in, she came face to face with Peter. Immediately, and simultaneously, they said:

"I think we should get a divorce ... I'm sorry!"

They ran into each other's arms, shared a French kiss for fifteen seconds, then hugged each other, sobbing uncontrollably, knowing that they might have kissed for the very last time.

They went into the living room into separate arm chairs sitting across from each other. About a minute later their children came in as well.

"Kids," said Ruthie, "your Dad and I need to talk, alone."

"Oh no, guys," snapped Heather. "You not only screwed your lives, you ruined ours! We have some things to say, but we'll hear you first. _All of it."_

"You created us," added James, "so _suck it up!"_

"They've got a point, Ruth," conceded Peter. It was the first time since they first made love thirteen years earlier that he called her Ruth – Ruthie, the name given to her by her parents, was a _portmanteau _of Ruth, Eric's favorite Biblical character, and Annie.

Ruthie sighed, and pointed them to the couch next to the bar. The twins got their mother a club soda after she said she was hammered enough, and served their father a screwdriver. They got themselves premium juice bottles made by a small volume craft maker on Martha's Vineyard. Heather picked mango, James picked blueberry.

Once the family all sat down, Ruthie got right to the point.

"Peter, it took a lot of guts for you to put down everything – church business, our kids – to help Felicity. And truth be told, I'm proud you got her back on the air. I'll get to what you and she did in a moment.

"But I have another beef. On the way back, I checked the credit card charges, and what really got me was all the money you spent on tailor-made outfits and makeup kits for her. You even knew her dimensions without even asking! I can't remember the last time you did that for me. Oh, I'm sorry – yes I _do_ remember. It's when I went down to normal size after I gave birth to James and Heather and you wanted me to look really nice when our children were baptized. They were born – let's see, seven years ago the day after tomorrow, four weeks before you and I won pairs air rifle at the NCAA finals, and they were baptized a year later, by Dad and Lucy – six years back. Since then what you done that was even _remotely_ romantic? Valentine's dinner? _Please!"_

"You're right Ruthie. Absolutely," replied Peter. "I do not justify not going out of my way to make you feel validated as a woman and a mother. As for the wardrobes ... well, I'll stick by what I told Felicity. I got them mainly because I thought she might only do an emergency broadcast then hit the road while she considered her next step. I wanted to get her the best, plain and simple."

"Well, before I ask you about the 'Main Event', such that it was," said Ruthie, "I have to wonder, did you _ever_ fantasize about having sex with her, _before_ she went underground?"

"Yes," admitted Peter.

"Did you think even remotely that _you_ might have tried to seduce her? Even if you didn't aim for it deliberately?"

"I thought the odds were a hundred to one when I got to her spread. While we were in first preparation, it went to ten to one very quickly. When we went on the picnic, I knew we were going to do something to relieve the tension, but I only wanted it to be mutual masturbation. Still, the odds were down to three to one. When she said if she wanted to go all the way – I just went for it. Even thinking about the cool jerk amounted to cheating, and I can never justify it. I never will!"

"Okay, Dad," said Heather, "I know we're supposed to wait our turn, but you always take a box of condoms with you when you and Mom go anywhere, for when you want to do a quickie in the stalls, a broom closet or even out in a park. You left it on your bed-stand. We checked. Did you forget, or were you hoping to knock Felicity up?"

"That, too, is something that will eat me up for as long as I live, honey," said her father. "Yes I _did_ forget them. No, I _didn't_ set out to get Felicity pregnant. I don't even think she is because she took the morning after."

"But it doesn't always work, Dad. If all of a sudden, we _are _going to have another brother or sister, how are we going to handle Felicity? Do we call her Aunt Felicity? Stepmom? Or – bitch, home wrecker, fifth wheel -"

"I get it!" said Peter. "We'll figure that out when we get there. I hope it doesn't get to that point."

"So," said Ruthie. "Let's talk about the Main Event. Specifics. Be as graphic as you want. We're not going anywhere." She and the twins were now crossing their arms in front of them, waiting to hear a screwup talk about the screwing.

For the next hour, Peter went into excruciating and very embarrassing detail about a two and a half hour rendezvous in the great outdoors, following by the seven shorter ones that followed inside the house. He said he would have done even more with Felicity if they were not just a couple of hours from airtime.

Once he was done, he then asked Ruthie about her rendezvous.

"I know what you're asking, so I'll get right to it. I've been bisexual since a year and a half before we first met on a blind study date at Dad's parsonage," said Ruthie. "I was embarrassed to tell you. And the reason I didn't say anything is related to why I kissed you to wake you up when you napped on the couch. I knew I had found the man I was going to live with for the rest of my life. Or, at least, the next thirteen. When Lisa made her move on me ... well, it took me twenty-four hours to consider it, but I decided to go with what I've always wanted to experiment with. If it was one of Lucy's best friends, all the better - I thought. So, here's what Lisa and I did."

Ruthie then went into explicit detail about her fling with Lisa. Heather and James were obviously disgusted, but they wanted the truth, no matter how explicit.

"Sorry kids," said Ruthie, "but are you _sure _you want to stay?"

"Yes," said James. "We _know_ what sex is. We've seen porn on TV."

"What?!" asked Peter in shock. "Did you just tell Mom and me that you're into porn?"

"Not the pay per view stuff that's way beyond legal," said Heather. "The hard-core some of the premium movie channels show late at night. Mind you, Jim and I prefer the soft core stuff. At least they have plot lines and the skin scenes are plausible – and the scenes are about romance, not having sex for no reason at all."

"Kids, you're _seven!" _said Ruthie angrily. "If Child Protective Services found out, they'd run in and you'd be gone from us, forever! And Dad and I would go to jail! Besides, we set the parental controls on the cable box to block out adult contact – content – well, both ... after all, sex _is_ the world's favorite contact sport!"

"Yeah, the password ... 1, 2, 3, 4. Really safe!" laughed James. "Sorry, Mom and Dad. But we have had sleepless nights, have had for months since we knew you were in trouble. We found one channel by accident. And well, we got hooked. But ..."

He looked at his twin.

"We'll never do that again ... at least until we're sixteen," promised Heather. "Besides, it kind of gets boring after a while. For what it's worth, guys – we're surprised you didn't try it, at least the soft stuff, to try to get the spark back. You can't have just four or five ways to have sex."

"We did," said Ruthie and Peter together. Ruthie then said, "Unfortunately kids, we were already beyond the point of reconciliation. And our affairs the last few days, well that was the last straw. So ... well, Dad and I have had a talk, and while we will always be a family and we'll both still live here because you deserve to have both of us, we'll be in separate bedrooms. Starting tonight, and going forward from there. Permanently. And by the end of the year, maybe even sooner if we can agree on how the money's going to be split, we'll be _divorced." _Ruthie started crying again. "We're so sorry. We never meant to hurt you ... and we know we hurt you even more than Dad and I hurt each other!"

Heather and James started to cry and hugged each other. They knew it was bound to happen. They were hoping it would be a few years down the road, not just a couple of days before their seventh birthday. Finally, they spoke.

"As much as we want to tear you apart," said Heather, "we're not going to. We love both of you. But since you've already agreed to joint custody, we'll play along, on one condition."

"Which is?" inquired Peter.

"That neither of you start dating again for at least two years from the day the divorce is granted, and you don't get married for three years after that," said Jim.

"Okay," said Ruthie.

"Sure," agreed Peter. "Any other concessions from Mom and me?"

"We still have dinner together every night, and the joint dinners we have with Aunt Shelby and Uncle Rod and their kids Fridays and Sundays continue," said Heather. "At least you're willing to make nice, but we'll make sure you do!"

"That's a promise we can and _will_ keep. We will _always_ be a family." Peter smiled.

The parents hugged their children and told them that they were sorry again.

Ruthie then asked the twins, "You had something you wanted to tell us?"

"That we're pissed off," said Heather. "You understand how we feel you and Dad stabbed _us_ in the back. But beyond that, we'd be swearing at you in over a hundred languages – and at this church, which is probably the most multi-ethnic for a couple hundred miles around, you pick up five or six in each. So there's nothing to say, except we forgive both of you. As hard as it is, Jim and I forgive you."

"Thank you," said Peter. "But, and Mom and I need to stress this, don't say anything about the divorce to anything until it actually happens – outside of Uncle Rod, Aunt Shelby, as well as Rhiannon and Maighread. They already know so it has to stay in our circle."

"Not even our cousins? Including Aunt Luce and her kids, including the other Rhiannon?"

"They're gonna figure it out anyway," said Ruthie, "but our family believes in honor. What is a secret will stay a secret. Don't bring it up unless they do. Same with Uncle Chandler and Aunt Roxanne."

"Deal," the twins said.

The doorbell rang. It was Rod and Shelby.

"I think this is our time to go upstairs," said James.

After he and Heather headed up, the other ministers had a few choice words for Ruthie and Peter.

"You guys are crazy!" screamed Shelby, "We've all been friends for more than fifteen years. In all this time, Rod and I never would have figured you'd do something like this. This is a very _serious_ investigation. Yes, Ruthie, we're glad you got the goods from Ashley about the derivatives hacking. Yes Peter, we're glad you got Felicity to say she already talked to a grand jury. We had absolutely no idea about either of that. We're on second base now, and we thought it'd take a year to get even close to that.

"But if there is even the _slightest_ possibility that you're going to have a chance with someone to get the goods and that means getting _into _their goods, you always tell your spouse something's going to happen, and you make sure you send the message by secure channels. As spies, Rod and I have made that a rule."

"You have never cheated on each other," said Peter. "And that's why Ruthie and I are sorry to – for hurting our friendship as well as all of our reputations. If you want our resignation we're ready to offer it."

"Unaccepted," said Rod simply. "You two are part of the reason for this church's huge success. We won't let you go without a fight. And if you mean cheating by, we _deliberately_ go behind each other's backs for comfort from hurt like home-wreckers like you two did, no. We never have and never will. But we have had extramarital relations with other _spies_ - with each other's consent."

"What?" Ruthie was dumbfounded. "How many?"

"Eight each," said Shelby. "For me, five men and three women. All of it was okay, and the sex was great; but it was just sex, not making love – like you two did with Felicity and Lisa! And it actually helped spark things between my husband and me again, after a few missions - um, pardon the expression."

"Seven women, one man," said Rod. "And don't even _ask_ about the last one, because I absolutely hated it even if he helped one of our allies in Europe catch a double agent. Same thing with the others, though - I needed the reboot too every so often. Our sex lives are now so great we don't even need to go down that road. But for obvious reasons, just in case we meet a contact who demands a _quid pro quo, _Shel and I _always_ carry a fresh pack of condoms and dental dams. There's no way I'm knocking up someone outside the circle, no way Shel will let herself get pregnant by anyone other than me - and there's no way we'll let any of our children have diseases they can never be cured of."

"Well, is there anything else you wanted to mention?" asked Peter.

"Three hours ago, we each received a phone call – different callers – from someone who said we need to get this project rolling and the sooner the better. Shel and I told them to meet us here, tonight ..."

The doorbell rang.

"... and here they are," finished Shelby. She pulled up her smart phone, and asked for the one time code pass. Once the code was messaged over, she punched a series of buttons which unlocked Ruthie's and Peter's door.

The fractured couple weren't ready for what happened next. Two women walked in. They were Felicity and Hope.

"Reverend Anderson, it's an honor," said Ruthie, shaking her hand in appreciation. She turned to Felicity. After a pause, Ruthie said, "I knew this was going to happen sooner than later, but you don't need to say you're sorry because you already did. And as hard as it is for me ... I forgive you, Felicity."

"Sister, you have no idea how much hearing that with my own ears means," said Felicity, relieved. "I know we may never be friends -"

"We _are,"_ interrupted Ruthie. "We'll talk about how we can figure out on what terms we'll be friends later. But for now I'm glad you're here."

"Felicity," said Peter, still in shock his lover was in the same room, "I thought I asked you to wait until _next _Wednesday to call to see _if _I thought it was okay for you to come over."

"If Hope here hadn't called me on an urgent manner, I wouldn't be here," said Felicity. "But after my speech two nights ago, I set off a lot of alarm bells. Money has moved around at a clipper pace. The stuff I have talked about just scraped the surface of what I've fought against. Including Hope here ... until now."

"Maybe we should all sit back in the living room," said Ruthie. "Any preferences for drinks, women?"

"Merlot .. from the Finger Lakes," said Felicity.

"India Pale Ale, from Canada," said Hope.

"The usual, guys?" Ruthie asked the other ministers, pulled up a vermouth for Shelby and a shot of Newfoundland 'screech' for Rod.

Ruthie, who was also a licensed bartender, mixed another screwdriver – a more potent one – for her soon to be ex, as his nightcap. She was still buzzed out but this time chose a margarita for herself to get a nightcap of her own.

"Reverend ... I mean, Hope," said Ruthie after the beverages were served, "may I ask what brings you here? And why did you come with Felicity? Do you know each other?"

"The first time I ever spoke with Pastor Hunter was yesterday morning, after more than seven thousand of Mom and Dad's ministry's followers who watched or listened to Felicity's broadcast, e-mailed or called saying they wanted to put on the church's no-contact list," said Hope. "When they found out what their money was supporting, they were furious. Just my luck, it was also my weekly session answering phones. A concession I made as part of my parents' deal with me to have me on TV even though my views about doctrine are totally different from theirs.

"From seven to ten am west coast time, just one caller after another saying, 'God lied to me – I'm quitting being a Christian!' Which is truly sad – it wasn't God who lied to them, it was the ministry.

"After it got to twenty calls, I had enough. I told my parents I was getting something like motion sickness - which I was - and I needed to see my doc; and once I did see the GP, I also told them I needed to go to see my brother who has a church here in Saint Louis. He really does, actually, but I have been estranged from him for as long as I can remember. He's even more fanatical than our parents.

"But I had no intention of seeing him even to make peace, and I'm not seeing him now. And by the end of the month, once I get my business affairs in order, I'm separating my ministry from my parents'. In fact, I'm going to disown them! And it's not just because of what Felicity here said, which is true, mostly."

"Mostly?" inquired Peter.

"Felicity made twenty-one specific allegations against my parents and me. I told her at my first call to her, from a disposable SIM card so it can't be traced back to me, that six of them were totally false and I could prove it. I e-mailed her a PDF showing why, and earlier this evening, she retracted that part of her sermon saying she had new information and was prepared to give Mom and Dad the benefit of the doubt."

"When I'm wrong, I'm wrong," conceded Felicity. "So I said I'm sorry in my daily blog entry. But Hope's paperwork confirms the other sixteen."

"Yes," said Hope. "And I will concede I am responsible for five of those items. I did launder about fifty million dollars in donations to five tax shelter states, and another thirty to Ms Lumby's home base of Luxembourg – every year for ten years. Eight hundred million, total. I got immunity this morning, when I offered to turn over my share of what was stolen from the church for my personal use – one hundred million dollars. That cuts my net worth by more than ninety percent and I'm still going to have a bit of comfort; but I'd be willing to give it _all_ up, including what I have earned legally through book and podcast sales, if the parishioners got their money back – which of course will never happen.

"The other eleven allegations just scrape the surface. All the cult watchdog sites, even Felicity, have grossly underestimated my parent's net worth."

"How much?" asked Ruthie.

"Including the money they've stolen...which is most of it...half a trillion."

"Impossible. Four of the five richest men in America are worth one hundred eighty-nine billion _combined_. Two of them are lions, and using their fortunes to help the little guy, in the developed world and the developing. The other two, brothers, are in the same nut-bag crowd your parents are in – with all due respect. They're backing neo-facists who want to return our civil liberties to before _Magna Carta_ – meaning none. If they have any redeeming grace, they back some of the most important as well as funny public television and radio shows in America. Which the first two also back."

"The brothers are actually libertarians, Ruthie, not facists ... and trust me, whatever their political activities, their philanthropy is genuine. But they _hate_ the Word of Faith. They're on _our _side – the side I am now proud to be part of, permanently.

"But it's true. My parents are worth half a _trillion_. And they've gotten help with 'true believers' from across the entire Christian spectrum. Fanatics who want to hasten the return of the Precious Blood. And they're from lefties like all four of you and your kids; moderates like me, and as much as paleos like you know who. Dad's been the front man, Mom's been doing the financials. Long story short, the runners set up pyramid schemes that last three months or less, they make sure only the next two levels of the pyramid get paid out and the runners split their profits fifty-fifty with my parents.

"It's been going on so long it's amazing I was willing to play along, for years. While I was keeping up a _façade _of integrity. I am truly ashamed and I don't deserve to be Christ's servant. But the night of Felicity's broadcast, something so unbelievable happened that it enraged me even more than when I was before my teleconference with the grand jury."

"What?" Peter leaned forward.

"I had two boyfriends in seminary. One was your pal, Chandler. He was actually my _second_ boyfriend, and he proposed to me in our senior year. I loved him, I adored him, but I turned him down – I thought I just wasn't ready to be a mother. I was wrong – and I'm actually making up for lost time, before my clock runs out. I wish I had said yes. If for no other reason than I would have broken away from my parents ages ago. But we have stayed friends ever since. And when I heard from him today, I was heartbroken over what he said. And by a horrible convergence, it involved my other boyfriend.

"Chandler called the man 'Emilio Sanchez.' I didn't know him as that. I knew his as Edward Sanderson. We dated for nine months, and around month seven we both lost our virginity. It ended at month nine ... when he raped me."

"Oh my God!" said Ruthie. "I'm sorry!"

"Ruthie," said Hope with a bit of impatience, "I'm sure you've said that so many times about something that wasn't your fault. I appreciate the thought, but you might want to learn the difference between _empathy _and _sympathy._ If this current situation gets even more out of control, you'll really need to make use of the former and a lot. Please don't take that personally, sister ... I'm just trying to help you out."

"No offense taken."

"Anyway, I got a rape kit but the next day Edward had withdrawn from school and taken all his belongings. So the sample went into the national DNA database and for so many years I thought that I would never see him again – not in a courtroom, not anywhere else. But around the time of my meeting with the grand jury, the FBI found a match with another victim. Two, actually. They are Chandler and Roxanne's daughters, Catherine and Rita. 'Emilio' was boasting when he raped them that he had an ex-girlfriend, and named me. While the logs were searched by the FBI database, Chandler decided to contact me only because he wanted to help an old friend finish her - my - parents off on the financial side. But as soon as the DNA match was made from rape kits the girls had extracted from them from an earlier rape session - there were about fifteen, total - and asked to be put in lockup, Chandler realized who 'Emilio' was. My connection to Chand is that, all those years ago, I linked up with him because he led the team of students who were trying to find out where the bastard went, and he helped me start to believe in myself again. Matter of fact he and I made love a couple of months after the rape, if you can believe that - and it was love, not just sex like I had with Ed. In a way, I was healed.

"But the situation gets much worse.

"A few years after, when I got my credentials and was ordained, a man came to the TV ministry. Name, Edmond Sandberg. Claimed to be a Jew who converted to Christianity. He started working his way up from phone operator to IT. He seemed oddly familiar except he had a thick mustache, like a certain muckraker 'news' personality – guess who – and a darker complexion from taking overdoses of tanning pills. The old 'black-face' trick. He was quite the character, making people laugh. He also had a Southeast accent – y'all, grits, honey, and the down home drawl. And the blue-collar jokes – they would have easily competed with Felicity's here.

"However, one of my duties at my parents' ministry is compliance audits. Making sure employees are following accepted rules for online and phone usage. The two biggest ones to flag as you guys can guess, are porn ranging from erotica to the despicable and revolting – and phone sex lines of all categories. One day I found hundreds of different sites being visited from _one_ terminal, and a large number of phone calls from one extension. They both were coming from one employee. Sure enough, it was Edmond. And our policy is zero tolerance. Not because of the material. It's so many of the sites spread malware and Trojan horses which can do wonders to your computer systems.

"I had no choice. I fired him on the spot – still not knowing who he was even though I had looked him straight in the eye and told him he was gone. He was out of the building in ten minutes. Once I was sure he had left, I asked the police to search his workstation to see if there might have been use of illegal drugs. Nothing, but he had pleasured himself just that morning, on the keyboard. He thought he had disinfected it but a trace of semen was found on the mouse pad. Unbelievably, it turned out to be Edward – but by the time the police got an arrest warrant, he was gone. Even when the FBI upgraded it to a fifty state warrant, given my celebrity status, nothing – he went underground, again.

"When I heard from Chandler today that his daughters were molested, I just broke into tears. It's not just their ages, or that Catherine has autism – even if she has more than made the best of it. It's that it was so horrible that a man who ruined my life had to go after a man I once _loved –_ in every sense of the word."

"So it stands to reason that because Chandler stood up for you, Hope, he wanted to get back at him for not minding his own business. But how did Edward ever figure out Chandler had children? And how did he ever get to be his and Roxanne's lives in babysitter?"

"Simple," said Felicity. "Columbia like most other universities has an online classified service, for employees as well as students, for just about anything. He went on a lark, found Chandler needed a 'nanny' – or butler in this case – used a stolen identity which passed the background check and 'Emilio' went in making nice, then went after his and Roxanne's children. This time, using a lower dose of the tanners to make him look Hispanic."

"But why?" said Peter. "Going after minors like that is the worst possible crime. Even worse than treason. Only someone with nothing to lose could get away with it ... wait a minute – I know where this is going, but say it ain't so, Hope!"

"Yeah," said Hope. "My parents weren't happy I fired Edward. Turns out he was using his URL to redirect the porn – to my _parents! _Yes, Ed did jerk off a lot – no secret to anyone on the compound - but my parents despite declaring fire and brimstone on anyone who looks at a naked picture or movie, actually _love_ hard-core, and scenes with _real _rapes caught on hidden camera. And to my horror, they were into even more horrible stuff with minors on videotape. They put in so many firewalls that they thought no one would ever find out. Little did they know, I knew a few tricks even many IT guys and gals don't.

"Oh, yes ... even _without_ all that atrocious stuff, my father's homosexual. I've known that since nine. And Mom's a lesbian. They are definitely not molesters, just like most LGBT people are not molesters. They have _never _harmed any innocent children – and that is the absolute truth. And I'm sure, they never will. But their marriage since my birth been entirely one of convenience. Two years after I was born, they already had separate bedrooms. I only found out one night about them when I came home from private school, on my ninth birthday, and walked into an orgy – Dad, Mom and six other people. The sex went so many ways, but at no time did Mom and Dad even touch each other – or anyone of the respective opposite gender. Only their own sex. No one saw me, but I was so horrified that I ran out and prayed to God that they be cleansed of their sin and to change their ways. They didn't. The all night parties just kept happening. That's when I knew. And Felicity will go public very soon about this – with my help. I actually don't care anymore that Mom and Dad are gay - and not just because I have so many LGBT friends - but I simply will not tolerate hypocrites anymore, especially and even if they are my blood.

"Well I'm tech savvy and in the following forensic work after the dismissal I figured it all out. I put the evidence in a storage space location they would never know about. But little did I know that Mom and Dad were so worried their free porn might get cut off – "

"Did 'Edmond' hack into cable so your parents could get free stuff from the pay per view stations?" interrupted Peter.

"Yes, Peter," said Hope.

"Interfering with interstate commerce – a federal offense. So far, it's the _one_ that has a chance of sticking."

"Twenty years, $3000 fine – with fines cumulative each instance. Sure, Peter, it's easy to prosecute piracy of cable, satellite or fibre optic TV signals ... but what good will _that_ do for the victims of all the theft – which I was part of? But the point I was trying to make is, my parents were so worried about eventually losing their free porn that, _before_ I made the discovery and dismissal, they gave Ed a secret phone number to be used if and only if he managed to get a hold of Chandler – as their way of getting back at me for his doing the right thing. They never spoke up for me when I was raped, which means they agreed with it; and Chandler was not minding his business. They've hated him back from his postings in the old USENET before he and I went to seminary, and especially ever since his op-ed piece in the NYT running down the religious right a few months before he temporarily replaced Reverend Camden after his second heart attack. When my parents found out from Edward he had gotten through the chicane, they forwarded him half of the money _they _stole on the gold market and he in turn gave ten percent to your church – through multiple identity theft of law-abiding people – on condition he do something to the family. Harm of any kind.

"Best thing is, he thought he had gotten away with the money part. Except about fifty people whose identities were stolen, called the Secret Service and / or the IRS to complain about a tax receipt from a church they had never given money to. Yours. Actually, the IRS has found out there were eight hundred victims more too on the money side."

"Excuse me, Hope ... " said Ruthie. Her body was shaking. "Are you telling me, your parents paid your ex-boyfriend a hundred and twenty _million –_ to rape two girls? And Chandler's and Roxie's specifically? Two little girls, who Peter and I consider to be our honorary nieces?"

"Yes!" said Hope, crying so hard she needed nearly five minutes to stop. It wasn't her children, of course, but the pain of what happened to them became intimately connected to what happened to her.

Throughout this entire _dictum, _Rod and Shelby had been silent. But the thought something like that could happen to their daughters overwhelmed them. The normally stoic Marines burst into tears, and comforted Hope with a huge hug to let her know she was now part of the family, too.

"Yeah, and that's why I've disowned my parents," Hope finally said when she calmed down. "I'd break ties with them if he was paid just a dollar. But that much money – to do that to two girls? And to make the sisters have sex with each other – if that is even possible, at their age?! No. No daughter, or son, would or should ever put up with that.

"As for the BI thing, same thing – multiple fronts, pyramid schemes, _et cetera – _and the church's leaders who openly praise father's daughters, molest them too. With contributor's money and other market manipulators. My parents only let them and their disgusting programs on our station because they always pay their advertising fees on time, and they give a cut to the ministry of their revenues too. So it's a deal with the devil - or two. The summit between that leader and my Dad is in just ten days time. There _will _be World War III if we can't figure out a way to put our heads together – if you'll pardon the expression – to stop them."

"So why did you show up with Felicity tonight?" asked Ruthie.

"I'll answer that, Ruthie," said Felicity. "Hope called me and said she was so inspired by my broadcast – even with the errors – that she wanted to do more than help with the investigation. Since she can no longer have her ministry in her parent's house, compound, prison – whatever one can call it – she needs a place to rest her feet in. I told her I'd be happy to share my ministry with hers – we both think that with her defection about a quarter of her parents' ministry's members who prefer her more moderate and reasonable approach to evangelism, which is mostly where I am, will move with her which puts us in great stead to compete. But because Enid isn't really safe for me, at least for a while, Hope on a lark - so to speak - thought we could put our stakes, temporarily, here. Since you weren't yet home, Ruthie, we called Majors Connor and Parker here."

"What did you tell them, guys?" Ruthie knew what was going to be said in any case.

"Since you and Peter came on board more than three years ago," said Rod, "things have gone great, our church has continued to grow by leaps and bounds – and we're really happy to have you as ministers as well as friends. But we still need a few more hands. Hope and Felicity are just the women we need – progressive, assertive, sticking to the Bible while keeping a mind on the wider world, and they both have clear senses of right and wrong. We need as big a team as possible not just to run this church, but to bury our common enemies."

"Well, I don't think our parishioners are going to like two unmarried women living in _one_ of the guest houses," said Peter.

"Actually there's two of them, one attached to each parsonage," said Hope. "We flipped a coin. I get Shelby and Rod's – Felicity gets yours."

"What other arrangements are there going to be?"

"For me, none. I will pay for my phone, cable and internet. I'll break bread with their family for supper every day but otherwise it'll just be me."

"Why couldn't Felicity be over there and you with us, Hope? It'd make things a lot easier."

"Ruthie ..." hummed Felicity, momentarily turning to her new female friend. For a minute she was trying to find the right words. Then she said, "remember when you got The Call? When our Master called you to serve Him – or Her?"

"It was a woman's voice in my case. Softer than the softest whisper. But I remember it. When you get The Call, you _know _it's Her. It's not like Hope's parents who claim God talks to them all the time. You know it's God, and when you hear The Call you always answer yes. I think that's true for all of us here – all six."

"Well, I heard it again last night," said Felicity. "I knew it was God speaking to me – She has the most beautiful voice. And She told me to consecrate my daughter to Her, to be a minister like I will be."

"_WHAT?" _Peter screamed. He almost fainted but was quickly stopped there by Shelby.

"Yes Peter ... we're having a baby."

"What about -"

"I didn't take it. I couldn't. After sharing something so wonderful with you I couldn't even think about destroying something we created. It might have been different if you had taken advantage of my good nature then sexually assaulted me. But that – no. I know it's been only four days, but she was conceived just one hour after we finished the very first time. We are going to have a daughter; your kids will have a sister."

Peter walked over to his girlfriend, kissed her, and rubbed his nose against hers. Their joy was immeasurable.

"Well, that's wonderful," said Ruthie, genuinely. "I guess I have no choice, then. Actually, I do. I _choose_ to say, that you can stay. I'd be more than happy to have you as part of our family. And when I tell Peter's and my other children I shall tell them to address you as Aunt Felicity ... and I expect that when your daughter is old enough to talk, you shall have her address me as Aunt Ruthie. We're pretty much sisters now since we now both have Peter's blood in our veins ... and I know you'll be a wonderful mother!"

"Thank you, Ruthie," said Felicity. "I accept what you just said."

"But I have a few conditions."

"Anything, sister!"

"I have made this _choice_ not just because you're having Peter's baby, or because you really have no home even though you can more than afford to get a new one. I have done so because you are a woman of integrity. The very first thing you did after you admitted what you did was to tell me you were sorry – me, personally. That means so much. Even though I slept with Lisa because I had a feeling you and Peter were going to if you hadn't already – "

"Wait," interrupted Peter. "You rubbed up against Lisa because you thought I may have or was going to have sex with Felicity? I thought the same thing about you two! Oh my God! We had one chance to _save_ our marriage, and we blew it!"

"Oh Peter ... what's the point about talking about what if? We did," said Ruthie. "We have to move on. Our kids are willing to, so should we.

"Be that as it may, Felicity, and in return for this _choice, _we need to agree on the following points. And we're having Rod, Shelby and Hope as our witnesses on this. One, you and Hope join the rest of our families, both of them, for a joint dinner we have every Friday and Sunday night. This is when we talk business as well as family life. Since we're all going to have three more mouths to feed, we need your advice. After all, you are part of the team, and teams stick together.

"Two, you can continue your ministry – or your and Hope's ministry – but you can't overshadow the four of us. We're willing to take you on as partners, but I in particular want you to use your sermons not to spread stuff about the bad guys – that's what your vodcasts are about – but about what Jesus means to all of us. You're a great speaker and a thoughtful one, but you could use Hope's help here to polish it up."

"I've already started that with her," said Felicity, winking at Hope. She winked back.

"But this is number three. You can't have yourself just to Peter ... you have to share him with me. And yourself with me, too."

Hope, Rod and Shelby's jaws all dropped. They couldn't believe what they had just heard.

"What did you say?"

"Just what I said. Felicity, I might no longer want to be married to Peter, but that doesn't mean he and I still can't have sex. A lot of divorced couples in our church here do just that – they sex the ex because they don't know where else to look. They don't want to spend time together out of bed, but it's okay to take the pressure off in bed. I've been with Peter so long I can't imagine being with another man, not for some time yet. So I'll take what I can have. And after making love with Lisa, my long-held back feeling that I like women that way was confirmed."

"Why would I even want to have sex with you? Or _any_ woman for that matter?"

"Vanderbilt, 1997. Semi-finals of the national debating championship. A real girl's night out according to a muckraker website. You said in a camera feed you loved being with women. And you were never later asked by any employer, including the counter cult one, what your sexual orientation was or wanted to say what it was."

"That's because it's illegal to ask those kinds of questions in California, even religious organizations! And even if it was, I would have said, 'I want to be a member of your team, with all its diversity. But it's a personal matter, and has no bearing on how the team operates and I hope it doesn't if you take me on'."

"So was the Nashville Nellies a one time thing?" asked Ruthie with emphasis. "Are you bisexual, or aren't you?"

"Yes, to both questions," said Felicity, quietly. "It was a one night thing – Vanderbilt like you said. And it wasn't girl's night out, it was mayhem. There were four women and two men on our team, Vanderbilt had three and three. After we won, we actually offered the losing team beers as an act of good will. And it got out of hand. That video only shows all the women, including me, because I only plunked with all of the other six women, not any of the boys. But I can assure you it was an orgy going all ways. When Peter told me you slept with Lisa, I had to wonder whether it was time for me to finally just come out. I think _both_ of us will have to now. Publicly. I'm not ready to try that with you next week or even in a month. But I can see us making love somewhere down the road. So okay, sure."

"Are you okay with a three-way?"

"Why not? We're _both_ the mothers of Peter's children. And it's not like we're both married to Peter at once."

"So you accept my choice then? I let you live here and have sex with Peter, and in return you let me have my way with you and Peter?

"Sure, Ruthie."

"What do the other guys here think?" asked Peter; implying he could agree to those terms as well.

"As long as you keep me _outside_ of the closed doors," said Hope. "I no longer, and have not in the longest time, had any issues with alternative lifestyles or the people who live them. I'll look the other way, but I am _absolutely_ heterosexual. This is exactly the church I want to be married in, not that personal paean to self my ex-parents built in the OC. And I want to find the man of my dreams here, and to walk down the aisle here with the man of my dreams at the altar, not the woman of my dreams. This isn't exactly the living arrangement I was expecting, even an hour ago, but you only have _Hope_ with _Faith;_ and I have faith we can all work this out. So I'll play along."

"This is highly bizarre ... not what most company men and women would begin to accept," said Shelby. "But – Rod and I, we'll go along too; however keep in mind that we need to keep our personal lives out of church business. It's essential to the church, as well as to the investigation. We need to meet in the morning, for breakfast, at our house. All six of us, and the five children - or the four outside the womb - so we can set the ground rules for all of us. This isn't going to be easy, but if we do this right, we may actually change the hearts and minds of a lot of our parishioners. Ladies, welcome to the team."

"Thank you," said Hope and Felicity together.

"Oh, by the way Felicity," said Rod, "a package came for you earlier. I have it here in this courier envelope."

The postmark was Tulsa, Oklahoma. Once Felicity had confirmed to Rod and Shelby she was on the way, the couple gave the university her forwarding info.

Felicity opened it. It was her divinity degree.

"Congratulations,_ Reverend!" _said Shelby.

"I'm a minister now? For real?" Felicity started crying and dropped to her knees, thanking God for making this dream finally come true.

The other five ministers surrounded her and did a group laying of hands to make the ordination official. She stood up and was embraced as a full member of the posse.

After hugs and handshakes all around, Rod and Shelby went home; while Peter and Ruthie went to separate bedrooms for the first time since the night before their wedding. Felicity went into the guest house.

Hope was last to leave the number two residence. The vast parking lot had just had its lights go out for the evening, and the minister looked up into the skies, seeing the vastness of the outer world and the thousands of stars and planets no longer obscured by city lights. She hadn't seen this many since her summers camping with the Girl Scouts as a little girl, and later a co-ed Senior Scout during her teen years - the few times she was truly happy as a girl.

"What is man, that thou art mindful of him?" she said softly. "Thank you, Jesus ... for finally giving me a real family. I pray, this unworthy servant to you ... that the thoughts of my mind, the words of my lips and the meditation of my heart will be acceptable to you, my Redeemer who was, is and evermore shall be. And that you find me a husband who will truly love me as you love your church. Amen."

She slowly made her way to her new guest house, tapped the security card, and finally did what she had wanted to do for so long. Something she could never do as long as her parents controlled her. Get drunk, pleasure herself and come over and over, and go to bed totally nude, while singing "I Love the Whole World" until she finally fell asleep - peacefully for the first time in years.


	12. Punk'd

Chapter 12

The following morning, the eleven – including Felicity and Peter's unborn daughter – were in the breakfast room of Rod and Shelby.

Heather and James gave a huge hug to both Felicity and Hope to welcome them to the church, and were even happier when they found out the kids were going to have a sister.

"What are you guys going to call her, Dad?" asked Heather.

"I only found out last night, sweetheart," said Peter. "Reverend Hunter hasn't even thought about it yet either."

"Kids, please – it's Felicity," said Felicity. "Not Reverend, not Aunt Felicity, not Stepmother which is what I'm likely to be now – just plain Felicity. If that's okay with you, Ruthie."

Ruthie had thought about what she had told the other woman about that the previous evening. She realized she was harsh.

"Yes, Felicity, it's fine," she said. "Understand, _I'm_ still _their_ mother. But I am prepared to say this – you will have an equal share in parenting with my children, as long as I have that with yours. If you impose discipline in our absence, provided it is reasonable and no violence is used, Peter and I will back you up a hundred percent."

"Thank you. And I ask the same of you, about mine."

"Sure."

"There's just one thing though … and I'm not sure the kids will want to hear this ..."

"We know _all," _said James. "It's about the _other_ thing Mom told you. Frankly, Mom, we think it's _gross_ – and I'm sure Hope and Felicity do too. Not to mention Aunt Shelby and Uncle Rod."

Ruthie paused, then cracked a huge smile.

"You guys all think I was _serious?!" _ she asked.

"Wait … you weren't?" said Hope in shock.

"Heck, no! I punk'd all of you!"

Felicity, who was standing up and holding a cup of coffee with one hand, while drinking orange juice from the other, tripped over herself and had to grasp the cups from spilling as she collapsed into her chair. She was catatonic for twenty seconds.

"Why would you even ask Felicity to do such a thing, if you were kidding?" asked Hope angrily, once Felicity snapped out of it. "That is _not_ funny at all!"

"Hope, Felicity," said Ruthie, "we are entering very dangerous territory. The final countdown might begin in nine days. If we have any chance of winning and saving this country if not the world, we have to be ready to do anything for each other. This was a test, to see if you were willing to do that. You passed. Both of you.

"So, no, I don't want to sleep with you, Felicity, no matter how attractive you are. And Lord, you _are_ hot! And in the next few minutes, I am going to make the last and final break with Peter. You have him all to yourself going forward. I will always be grateful to you for giving my children something I was unable to do – a sibling. But the fact is, while we are both bisexual, it is absolutely important that we live as committed heterosexuals. It's pretty obvious James and Heather want a mother and father – or two mothers and a father – but they don't want two mothers who are in bed together."

"Not until Dad's dead at least," said James. "And I hope all of you live another forty or fifty years."

"And Hope … I'm glad you're here, because what I just said about Peter … it's true. I understand you have a notary license in several states, including here in Missouri."

"Yes, but why are you asking me that?" asked Hope.

Ruthie stepped outside to the adjacent home office. She twirled the tumbler on the safe, and pulled out a recycled brown document envelope that Rod and Shelby had held for safe keeping overnight. She walked back in with the envelope.

"Peter and I are going to need you to seal this to make it official," said Ruthie. "It's the divorce papers. Peter and I talked about it while we were exercising in our basement this morning. No point putting it off."

Heather and James were crying their hearts out, totally inconsolable. Rhiannon and Maighread gave then a huge hug.

Once they had calmed down, Peter and Ruthie's children faced their parents.

"That's it?" James and Heather said together.

"That's it," said Peter bluntly. "The decree is about fifty-two pages long, because there's an extensive breakdown of personal assets. What was in joint bank accounts and common is split fifty-fifty. What each of us earned on our own in the stock markets, we keep. What we brought into the marriage separately, we keep as our own. But as far as you two, there is no dispute. Joint custody, unconditionally. We will discuss what we do separately, but we'll still share dinners together, go out on trips and shows and amusement parks together – and preferably with Felicity too. But you keep your trust accounts – we'll even put way more as our way of saying we're sorry – and you both will _always _have both of us. That is a promise we _will_ keep."

James and Heather asked for a minute to talk things over. Then they had a question for Hope.

"When a divorce is decreed or signed off on – as it will be here – how long do the ex-spouses have to wait until they marry someone else?" asked James. "We're more than happy to waive our cooling off period, since we know Dad wants to marry Felicity."

"Yeah, I do," admitted their father. "After exercise this morning, I walked over to the guest house, proposed to Felicity, and she accepted!"

"Yay!" the kids said, and high-fived each other.

"Well kids - and I'm glad you guys are happy - but to answer your question," said Hope, "normally in this state it's thirty one days, but given there are serious national security issues and _all _of our lives are in danger, I'm sure I can persuade a judge to waive it when I file the paperwork at the courthouse later today. Matter of fact, I'll be happy to do the wedding, at the church, tonight!"

_"Tonight?"_ asked Shelby.

"Better now than never."

"But what about the dress, the organ music, the whole she-bang ..."

"Peter and I just want a civil ceremony for now, if that's okay with you folks," said Felicity. "Once this all gets settled down, we'll have the fireworks and consecrate the marriage before Jesus and 15,000 of our best friends, the parishioners. And we can postpone the honeymoon as well."

The other ministers just sighed.

"Well, let's do this," said Ruthie. She signed her Dorothy Hancock on the front page of the settlement and Rod witnessed. In turn, Peter signed his autograph and Shelby offered her authentication. Hope, shedding a tear, reached into her sachet, found her seal puncher, and engrossed the document then added her own signature.

It took just forty-seven seconds. But Peter Petrowsky and Ruthie Camden were now divorced.

Ruthie paused, catching her breath and trying not to cry. Then she slowly took off her wedding ring from her left ring finger and then slipped it onto the opposite number on the other hand to indicate that the marriage really was over. She then took off the engagement ring, a large stone although way smaller than Lisa's and Brigitte's rings, and handed it to Peter.

"This ring came with a promise of marriage, Peter," said Ruthie. "Now that the marriage is over, it rightfully belongs to you again - to be placed on another woman's hand."

"You're serious about this?" Peter was numb.

"We both know who it belongs to now, and who deserves it."

Peter turned to Felicity. He never thought he would be giving his girlfriend an engagement ring that quickly, but knew she needed a sign she was fully in and that he was too. He first took off his wedding band and switched it to the other hand just as Ruthie had. He then faced his fiancée directly, kissed the engagement ring, slowly slipped it onto her hand, and said, "May this ring always remain with you, until we meet our Maker."

"Thank you, Peter," sobbed Felicity, kissing him. She then turned to Ruthie. "Thank you, sister, for this undeserved gift."

"Of course," said Ruthie. She winked. Felicity winked back.

Later that day, a judge at the courthouse, who was an old friend of Hope's, was shocked when he learned two of the city's most popular ministers had called their marriage quits. But he didn't need an explanation about why they wanted the cooling off period waived.

"It's Felicity Hunter, isn't it?"

"How did you know that, Your Honor?" asked Hope in shock.

"Since her sermon the other night, there have been literally hundreds of filings at the federal courthouse, suing your former ministry for fraud. And sadly, Reverend Anderson, there have been filings here too - criminal. Seven men and four women are accusing your father on charges of molestation when they were minors, when your parents first had a charge here, before the network days. The moment I saw Peter's name here, I figured out he _had_ to be the lover Reverend Hunter alluded to. He blew off a dinner with my wife and me. I know why now, and it's okay, but he could have been more forthright."

Hope was relieved to hear the judge got good cheer out of Felicity's stand. The judge gave no sign, however, if he knew she was now pregnant with Peter's seed.

"Dad is a crook, no question, which is why I have defected," said Hope, "but he would _never_ harm children!"

"To borrow a phrase from some of your more radical colleagues, 'How do you know?'"

Hope thought about it for a minute.

"Actually, I don't, Judge. I would never believe - I _can't_ believe he would do that. But if he has been or is still doing that ... well, two of my new friends are Special Forces. They will not tolerate buffalo chips like that! I hope they won't take the law into their own hands, but if they do you should know I'll look the other way."

"Better Harrison and Prudence have that happen to them _outside_ of jail and not inside! Besides which, Felicity's life is in danger, not to mention yours - and as far as national security, that's a matter of national security; and an _ex parte _hearing isn't necessary," said the judge, granting the exemption Peter and Ruthie asked for.

Several hours later, the gang at the church gathered inside a secret chapel in the basement of the complex. It was an oak paneled room with royal blue carpet and appointed for an executive wedding. Peter and the other men wore rush ordered tuxedos while Felicity wore a white business suit and a top hat and the other women wore matching yellow dresses.

Felicity asked that there be no flower girl or ring bearer, saying that could wait until the consecration. Instead, once all were in the room and the door securely locked, Hope began the nuptials.

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God, and in the face of this congregation, to join together this Man and this Woman - who are both our Master's servants in the word and the sacrament in Holy Matrimony; which is an honorable estate, instituted of God in the time of man's innocence, signifying unto us the mystical union that is betwixt Christ and his Church; which holy estate Christ adorned and beautified with his presence, and first miracle that he wrought, in Cana of Galilee; and is commended of Saint Paul to be honorable among all men: and therefore is not by any to be enterprised, nor taken in hand, unadvisedly, lightly, or wantonly; but reverently, discreetly, advisedly, soberly, and in the fear of God; duly considering the causes for which Matrimony was ordained.

'"First, It was ordained for the procreation of children, to be brought up in the fear and nurture of the Lord, and to the praise of his holy Name.

"Secondly, It was ordained for a remedy against sin, and to avoid fornication; that such persons as have not the gift of continence might marry, and keep themselves undefiled members of Christ's body ..."

Even Hope had to pause at that one - and had to restrain herself from laughing. This marriage was only happening _because_ of Peter's and Ruthie's unfaithfulness to each other.

"... Thirdly, It was ordained for the mutual society, help, and comfort, that the one ought to have of the other, both in prosperity and adversity. Into which holy estate these two persons present come now to be joined. Therefore if any man can shew any just cause, why they may not lawfully be joined together, let him now speak, or else after this takes effect for ever hold his peace."

The group looked around, and especially at the rear door, to see if anyone might come barging in and go postal. No one did.

"Who gives this woman in marriage?" asked Hope.

It was agreed outside the room that Shelby would do this. But surprisingly, it was Ruthie who spoke up.

"I do. My name is Ruthie Camden. I too am a Minister of Word and Sacrament, and Felicity is my friend."

Felicity's face lit up, so much so that one might have thought the lights of Las Vegas wouldn't do justice.

"And who gives this man in marriage?"

"I do, Reverend. My name is Rod Parker, Major, United States Marine Corps - and also a Minister of the Word and Sacrament. He saved my and my wife's lives once, as did the good Reverend Camden, and this is our way to start repaying that debt."

Hope then faced Peter.

"Please repeat after me, Peter ... I -"

"I, Peter James Petrowsky," picked up Peter, knows the vows from having done so many ceremonies of his own, and taking Felicity's hands and squeezing them, "take you, Felicity Foster Hunter, to be my lawfully wedded wife from this day forward, to be faithful to you for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in health and in illness, and forsaking all others keep you alone to me, until death parts us. This is my vow to Almighty God and to you, my faithful woman."

"I, Felicity Foster Hunter," said Felicity, squeezing Peter's hands even tighter, "take you, Peter James Petrowsky, to be my lawfully wedded wife from this day forward, to be faithful to you for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in health and in illness, and forsaking all others keep you alone to me, until death parts us. This is my vow to Almighty God and to you, my faithful man."

At this point, Rhiannon and Maighread produced the rings. Heather and James had declined, citing a conflict of interest.

"Felicity," said Peter, "take this ring as a sign of my love for, and everlasting fidelity to, you. With my body, I worship you; with my worldly goods, I endow them to you; and I wed you, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen." He slipped on a silver band he had purchased for her just a few hours before.

"Peter," said Felicity, starting to tremble with joy, "take this ring as a sign of my love for, and everlasting fidelity to, you. With my body, I worship you; with my worldly goods, I endow them to you; and I wed you, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen." She placed a matching ring on Peter's hand that she had gotten the same day as well.

"In the presence of Almighty God and these witnesses and inasmuch as this man and this woman have pledged each other's bodies, minds and souls within the bounds of Holy Matrimony, and have declared the same by an oath to God and to each other and by the exchange of rings, I, the Reverend Hope Anderson, by the authority granted to me by our Heavenly Father and by the laws of the State of Missouri, do hereby declare that these two be bound for life by covenant and by contract. What the hands of God has joined together, let no man or woman rend asunder ..."

Peter and Felicity were looking at each other, about to break loose.

"Well guys," said Hope, "just kiss each other!"

The couple fell into each other's arms and kissed for nearly two minutes.

The gang cheered. Heather ran up to Felicity and hugged her.

"Welcome to the family, Felicity," said Heather. "You're going to be a great Mom, with Mom."

"Oh honey, thank you!" said Felicity kissing her stepdaughter.

With handshakes all around, the doors were unsealed. A luxury car was waiting to take the newlyweds to their hotel. The drive took them about twenty minutes. After they made it to their room and Peter carried Felicity, a woman seven inches taller than him, over the threshold, they shared a bottle of champagne.

"Darling," said Felicity, "this is the happiest day of my life. You saved my career, restored my soul, and best of all gave me a child!"

"Well, there's no point waiting to do what married people do, and letting our daughter know we can't wait for her. Who knows ... maybe we'll give her a brother or sister of her own tonight."

"I'd love that," said Felicity. She started kissed Peter fully. They carefully took off one piece of clothing at a time, kissing what was left underneath for several minutes at a time, until there was nothing left. He hanged her clothes on one chair of the coffee table, while she did the same with hers on the other. Finally, he carried her over to the bed, which he stripped off, and they made love all night long, praying they would have another child indeed.

In Anaheim, Prudence and Harrison Anderson had spent three days searching where their daughter might had gone. They had no idea she had defected to "those who would deny prosperity". They had counted on a candidate for the federal Senate to get it to obstruct justice on their activities which they believed was only God's business. But if Hope got through to that candidate, it was game over.

Several hours later, at the exact same moment Peter and Felicity were consummating their marriage as well as pregnancy, a man walked into the inner sanctum. It was Edward Sanderson.

"You have a lot of nerve coming here, Ed," said Prudence. "You've just been added to the FBI's Ten Most Wanted. Child molestation - which we don't care about as you know, good for you! - grand theft by power of attorney, grand theft charitable donations, insider trading ... and oh yeah, proffering interference of interstate commerce, also known as accessory to cable theft!"

"Prudence my friend," said Ed, "I think we may finally be able to finish off Felicity, Hope, the entire wrecking crew and their friends in Europe and the Asia-Pacific. Seems our friends have used an encrypting system to pass messages about all the financial transactions. I haven't cracked the entire code yet, but I know now what system they're using and it's just a matter of figuring out the public key. Give me the weekend. By Monday morning, we'll have enough to turn the tables on _them!"_

"That's music to our ears!" grinned Harrison. "You get this right, and you get ten percent - make it fifteen, of our entire fortune!"

"I'll get to work immediately, sir!"

As soon as he left, Harrison pulled out his mp3 player and docked it onto his stereo system. Out of the speakers came the voice of one of the most notorious faith healers of all, singing a way past tone-deaf rendition of "No Other Name but the Name of Jesus."


	13. Slippery When Wet

After a night of wild sex, the newlyweds Peter and Felicity headed back to the compound but not before Felicity sensed God speaking to her again saying that they had conceived a son during the marathon. So Felicity was now carrying twins. She was delighted, but couldn't help feel sad that Ruthie's dream had been crushed nearly a year before. Peter also felt it was in a way unfair to his now ex-wife. If there was an upshot, it was James and Heather wanted siblings and they were now going to have them.

The birthday dinner for both sets of twins went well enough. James and Heather said having twin siblings on the way was the best birthday present of all; but their father, mother and new stepmother all insisted on plying them with the usual boatload of toys. Rod and Shelby did the same for Rhiannon and Maighread, while Hope was now ever more optimistic that luck would be coming her way too and sooner than later.

As supper wrapped up about eight in the evening, the doorbell rang. At the same time, the phone receiver began emitting a series of two short rings in a row indicating an incoming call on the intercom.

Ruthie picked up the receiver.

"Who is it?"

_"The Firm!" _said Annie coldly.

"Come in," said Ruthie, and remotely unlocked the front door.

"The Firm?" asked Hope.

"The whole Camden gang," said Peter. "Annie, Eric, all of Ruthie's sibs, _their_ spouses _and_ all their children!"

"They know?"

"Yeah."

It didn't take long for the family to file in. After wishing the seven-year olds a happy birthday, they headed straight for the den and filled every single seat in the room. The Gang of Six had no choice but to stand up.

"I'll get to you in a minute, Reverend Hunter," said Annie, declining to address Felicity by her Christian name. "I'm going to start with you Peter instead. What in God's name possessed you to cheat on Ruthie?"

"Mrs Camden," said Peter contritely, "I've already said I'm sorry to Ruthie and our children. And I'll say I'm sorry to you and the Camden family, too. I have no excuse for what I did. But you and Eric know our marriage was at an impasse. Losing the twins, on top of losing Sam all those years ago when we first starting having sex, was beyond unbearable. We tried everything to put things back together. We couldn't. It was just a matter of time before one of us cheated on the other. As you know, we both did at pretty much the same time. Maybe it was just better putting an end to the charade."

"And in the process, you knocked _her _up!" Annie said coldly, pointing at Felicity.

"We already had cybersex for weeks," admitted Peter. "It was bound to happen. I wasn't planning for it to happen on that day. I thought she might seduce me _after _her comeback broadcast. If you want to take it out on Felicity and me, by all means. But don't even _think_ about taking it out on the twins we've conceived. Two innocent children who had no say in the matter. I've stepped up to the plate. I've made Felicity an honest woman. And regardless of what happened between Ruthie and me, she will always be my best friend and the mother of my children. And she will have a full hand in helping Felicity and me out, and Felicity will help out with James and Heather. We've worked that out. It's a done deal, Mrs Camden, and there is nothing you can say or do that will change what happened or what will happen going forward!"

"Slippery when wet?" asked Annie rhetorically.

"I wouldn't choose those words, ma'am, but if you want to put it that way, _yes, _and I like it that way!"

Annie then turned to Felicity.

"He's very creamy -"

"Shut up, Grandma!" shouted Heather. Her voice was as cold as steel. "You're one to talk, after all, you and Grandpa cheated on each other! Remember that?"

"There's a big difference, Heather," said Annie. Eric was quiet the whole time, he wasn't going to thunder in on Annie's tirade. "Your parents are _both_ ministers. And if that wasn't bad enough, your father cheated with _another_ minister. That doesn't just complicate things, it make our whole family look bad."

Felicity was starting to make mental notes for her defense. She agreed Annie was right on some points but she wouldn't let her off that easily.

"As for you Ruthie," said Annie, "it may be a good thing you finally admitted what the rest of us already knew, have known for years - that you go both ways - but just because you're bisexual doesn't mean you _have_ to have sex with a woman."

"And not just any woman," added Lucy, "but one of my best friends from high school. A woman who was raped into lesbianism - if that's possible. And you let her take advantage of you!"

"Whoa, let's back up here! How did you guys know I'm bi?"

"Your secret stash of a certain 'gentleman's' magazine that you started building up even before you had your first period. No one, male _or _female, reads it just for the articles. Or the editorials, most of which I actually agree with. We found it the day after you and Peter got married."

"Okay, you found me out. You could have confronted me years ago. Be that as it may, Lucy, I didn't have sex with Lisa because she gave me all that intelligence info," said Ruthie. "I had sex with her as revenge for Peter doing it with Felicity. Was it wrong? Yes. Did I like it? You're damn right I did! Does that mean I want to have a woman as a life partner? No! I just wanted to try it, just once. If it wasn't with Lisa, it would have been with someone else. Besides, the DNA sample that linked Edward Sanderson to Hope here as well as Chandler and Roxie's daughters, has now been matched in the database to Lisa's rape. It's taken more than fifteen years, but she finally knows who nearly destroyed her. "

"Edward!?" asked Hope, shocked. "When did you find out?"

"Lisa called me three hours ago," replied Ruthie. "She told me to thank you, Hope. If it wasn't for your courage as well as Cathy and Rita, she would never have known the name of the mystery man."

"I guess her brother Thomas is now on a vigilante mission."

"Yup," smiled Ruthie. "Just for when he needs help, I gave him the cells for Rod and Shelby."

"Anytime Tom's ready, we're ready to whack Ed," said Shelby. "It'll be our pleasure to do an extrajudicial execution - for him."

It took a minute for all this to sink in. But finally, Annie was ready for the conversation she really wanted. She stood up and faced Felicity eyeball to eyeball.

"You know why I think 'home wrecker' is way too kind a word for you," said Annie.

"Yes, Mrs Camden, I totally agree and then some," said Felicity. "And I cannot begin to tell you how sorry I am. I could take forever to say my piece. But I'll get right to it. In defense of the indefensible, my life was in danger. It still is. Hope's parents are two of the most evil people on the planet. In the name of Christianity they have done everything to destroy normal people's faith in themselves as well as God as unrealized expectations came and went. I have fought for years against them going back to my days at the think-tank and before I came a Contemporary Christian and Southern Gospel singer. It was no idle threat. Harrison and Prudence have a record of having everything go their way. I prayed for God for something to give. I thought I would be _incommunicado _for months. The only one who reached out to me was Peter. Once I was satisfied he was looking out for me that I started sharing personal secrets with him online. This escalated to cybersex, and finally the explosion that happened earlier this week. He was recovering from hurt, too. And through it all, it's occurred to me that if it wasn't him, it would have been someone else - eventually. Your son-in-law is a blessing. He made me want to stand tall again. And I am proud to carry his seed now - well, seeds!"

"What about the ring," asked Annie. "This is the ring that Ruthie wore! How did you get it?"

"Once Peter and I signed off on the divorce yesterday, Mom," said Ruthie, "so did the reason for me having the ring. I accepted it with a promise to marry Peter. Now that we're no longer married, I wanted to give Felicity something to tell her I forgive her unconditionally. And I'm not taking it back!"

"So that's it then," said Annie in exasperation. "I've always taught you and your siblings that if you have something to fight for it and not to throw in the towel."

"Would you rather have James and Heather suffer knowing they're part of a sham?"

Annie was silent for a minute. "Check," she finally said.

More silence followed. Finally, Sarah Glass spoke up.

"Well guys," she said addressing Peter and Felicity, "since you _know _it's going to be a boy and girl, what are you going to call them?"

"The first thing that had come to mind is Jacob and Rachel ..." said Peter. He paused, then continued, "... but I immediately told Felicity that was out of the question. Those were the names Ruthie and I were going to give our babies until they went to Heaven to join their brother Sam."

"Thank you," said Ruthie, appreciating the tactfulness.

"We're totally at a loss, Dr Glass," said Felicity. "That could take months."

James and Heather had a very quiet face to face. Then Heather spoke up.

"How about Isaac and Rebecca? They too, like Jacob and Rachel, are among the Patriarchs buried in the Cave at Hebron."

Sarah was going to point out that it was actually Leah at the Cave - Rachel was buried in Bethlehem. But she bit her tongue once she realized how brilliant the suggestion was.

"That's perfect!" said Peter and Felicity in unison, hugging their children. Felicity was beaming. She said, "and so it is. Children, in eight and a half months time, you'll be welcoming Isaac and Rebecca as your new brother and sister!"

Once James peeled off his stepmother's tight grip, "well guys, we can't let all this food go to waste. Let's finish it off!"

The gang cheered and headed back to the kitchen.

It wasn't such good news for Harrison and Prudence Anderson. One hour later, Edward stormed into the inner sanctum at Casa Anaheim.

"Damn sons of bitches!" he screamed. "This isn't financial data. This is hard-core porn. And of _you _two!"

"What!?" said Prudence, shocked.

"The old washers in the money bag trick again. And it looks like there is _already_ a fifth column inside these walls who filmed these secret home videos. And it sure ain't your daughter either!" He threw the disks in their packages his bosses' way.

"Then who?" said Harrison.

"I'll need time," said Edward. "But you'll have to call Jackson Whirry in Moore, Oklahoma and tell him the summit is postponed indefinitely."

Harrison looked up to the ceiling. "Where are You when I need You?!" he screamed.

To this question, and seemingly for the first time in ages, the Lord was silent.


End file.
